


Vulcan: Secrets of the Sand

by AconitumNapellus



Series: Vulcan and Romulus [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Vulcan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 71,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1764589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AconitumNapellus/pseuds/AconitumNapellus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kirk and Spock beam down to Vulcan to investigate the recent destruction of a village, they get more than they bargained for, discovering an entire tribe of lost Vulcans.<br/>(This is one of my earliest Star Trek novels, so I apologise for the badness.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sun set slowly behind the rugged horizon of the Sha Gotha desert, taking the heat and light of day with it. For a moment the crests of the hot orange mountains glowed a shade redder, glinting like molten metal as the dying light passed over them. Then the last sliver of the orb disappeared, and the mountains became nothing more than dark silhouettes in the distance. As the home sun set, 40 Eridani’s twin dwarf stars began to rise in Vulcan’s now black sky, blazing as far away beacons in space.

Once dark had enveloped the sands, a predatory sig’h crept from its shady burrow, to begin hunting in the growing cool of night. It painstakingly stalked a sleepy, blue-plumed t’lyha bird, silent as the surrounding sand. Finally, it pounced, and closed its strong jaws firmly over the bird’s neck, muffling the desperate cackle from its prey’s beak as it dragged it back into its burrow in the sand.

T’Ganu stood perfectly still in the doorway of her house, watching, her hands frozen on the hall rug she held. She was tall, even for a Vulcan woman, and her head almost brushed the top of the door frame. She had a perfect view of the sig’h’s hunt, and the t’lyha’s last moments of unsuspecting calm, but logic compelled her to leave them well alone, no matter how much the sight appalled her. It was not logical to starve one creature and its family in order to give another a few more minutes of life.

She drew her black dress more warmly around herself, as the air chilled with the growing night. Her fine boned face was strikingly handsome in the shadows of half light, her rich brown hair pulled up and pinned in a series of knots and plaits piled at the top of her head, reflecting the light from inside the house. Her features held an expression of non-emotion and total logic with no effort at all, but now she grimaced a little and twisted her head away from the noise of strong crunching teeth and the squirt of blood from inside the burrow.

She shook out the mat she was holding, and turned to go back inside.

‘T’Ganu.’

Her consort was behind her. He rested his hand very lightly on her shoulder to stay her, as he took in the final remnants of the sunset.

‘Sandik. I was not aware of your presence,’ she said quickly, to mask her surprise.

‘You could not have saved the bird.’

Sandik knew what she had been thinking, as he always did, through the light telepathic contact that all married couples had. He surveyed the view before them, his dark eyes taking it all in with an intelligent gaze. He looked around again, past his wife’s shoulder, then he sniffed the air lightly, and his nose crinkled.

‘I smell the burning too,’ T’Ganu told him, noticing his slight grimace. ‘Coming from the north-west again.’

‘It is creeping closer,’ Sandik said grimly. ‘I heard the scream from Ly-Xzaha, two hundred measures north-west. We all felt the death cry. There are no more towns between us and the burning.’

‘Then it is logical to assume we will be next. Why do we not contact the authorities, Sandik?’ she said with an almost desperate sigh.

‘We are well prepared. If our village cannot defend itself against such happenings it should not exist,’ Sandik said with the stubbornness that had always lain deep under his logic. ‘Such is evolution.’

No matter how deep the adherence to logic was in these remote, isolated areas of Vulcan, the staunch sense of independence and pride ran even deeper. The people of the Sha Gotha desert relied on the central Vulcan government for nothing, and that was not going to change even now.

‘It may be that we can resist, and the other elders, but what of our young?’ T’Ganu asked, turning to him and meeting his eyes. ‘Can they also resist?’

Sandik glanced back through the doorway. ‘The sun has gone now, and our youngest is hungry,’ he said, deliberately avoiding the question. ‘Come inside, wife,’ he ordered. ‘You have your duties to our family to perform, instead of indulging in idle chatter with me.’

‘I come, husband.’

T’Ganu was well used to Sandik’s mildly old fashioned manners by now, and had learnt that his strict orders were not so much orders as his way of saying things. She stepped inside and went to the pre-programmed food dispenser, and touched a button. The dining table descended smoothly from the ceiling, until its anti-gravity supports brought it to rest a few feet above the floor, with the meal laid out.

‘Children,’ she called.

When no reply came, she went to her daughter’s room. She considered knocking, with proper Vulcan politeness, but decided instead to simply open the sound proof door. She pressed her palm on the plate by the door frame, and a metallic voice chimed out;

‘Entrance denied.’

‘Override,’ she ordered.

‘Override impossible. Entrance permitted only to T’Shuo and Shuok dar Sandik.’

She suppressed the feeling of affectionate amusement. Her son had recently undergone a course in computer programming and reprogramming, and she had known his sister would have taken advantage of it. She shook her head, and prised open the smooth entry-plate.

‘Computer, you will accept fingerprint identity.’ She pressed a finger into the designated hollow. ‘I am T’Ganu mar Sandik.’

‘Identity confirmed.’

‘You will override all commands by T’Shuo and Shuok dar Sandik.’

‘Complied.’

She pressed the panel again, but the door still wouldn’t open. ‘Computer, why will you not permit entry?’ T’Ganu asked quietly.

‘You requested all commands made by T’Shuo and Sh – ’

‘Yes,’ she interrupted.

‘T’Shuo and Shuok dar Sandik commanded that T’Ganu mar Sandik would be permitted entry by fingerprint identity. T’Ganu mar Sandik requested those orders be overrode.’

T’Ganu was proud of her children’s intelligence, if a little annoyed at how they put it to use.

‘Recall memory, and override all directives except those permitting me entry.’

There was a whirring, clicking sound, then, ‘Completed.’

‘Then please open the door,’ she requested softly.

‘Complied,’ the computer spoke back, mirroring her soft, martyred tone. The door slid open, revealing her two elder children bouncing on her daughter’s bed, laughing aloud.

‘It is time for dinner,’ she said quietly.

Immediately the two children snapped into cool Vulcan restraint. Shuok landed back on the bed with a thump, and gulped. T’Shuo quickly stepped in front of him.

‘We are ready, mother,’ she said, looking as if her coolness and composure could freeze all Vulcan. ‘We merely have to - to wash our hands.’

‘And your faces. You must also tidy your hair - and your minds,’ T’Ganu added. ‘Have you not yet been taught that it is bad manners to laugh with such lack of restraint? If you are happy, a simple, quiet smile will do - and that is a habit we must train you out of. I suggest an extra period of meditation each night.’

‘Yes, T’Ganu,’ Shuok said miserably. ‘I apologise, and so does my elder sister.’

‘Such antics are for the youngest Vulcans,’ his mother reprimanded him softly. ‘You are no longer an irresponsible one year old.’

‘Of course not, mother,’ T’Shuo agreed.

‘Dinner is on the table,’ she told them both, then turned so they didn’t see her subtle smile.

When they came out into the dining room, both their faces and their manner were shining clean.

‘Seat yourself and begin eating,’ their mother ordered quietly. ‘Your father is outside, but he will join you soon.’

She bent over a cot in the corner, and took out the hungry baby, who was just beginning to cry. She thought she heard the low mutter, ‘The baba is allowed emotions,’ but when she turned to the table, the two children were only eating quietly. She carefully and discreetly opened her top, and the baby clutched at her breast and found the warm milk, its eager drinking stifling its cries. For some inexplicable reason, T’Ganu remembered how the t’lyha bird had been stifled, and she shivered. Then Sandik came inside, quietly and sedately, but looking as if he was running.

‘We have been waiting,’ T’Ganu said quietly, trying not to show her alarm. ‘We began to eat.’

Sandik ignored what she said. ‘Wife, it was fortunate that we built that fire-proof chamber in our house. I smelt the burning coming closer. When I looked into the sky, there were the lights that other villages have reported.’

‘Father!’ T’Shuo almost jumped to her feet, but remembered her manners, and struggled to at least look as if her newly learnt Vulcan disciplines were working. She lowered her voice again. ‘Will we die, as the others have?’

‘I cannot predict the future, T’Shuo.’ Her father came over to her, and his hand closed over hers. ‘Leave your food and gather your bedclothes from your rooms. Both of you, children. Do as I say quickly, and calmly. T’Ganu, fetch a water container, and fill it, then place it in the room.’ He took the baby carefully from her, and went to wrap it in blankets and take it to its cot in the fire-proof room. ‘Quickly,’ he urged, as the others joined him, then he slid the heavy door closed, and barred it. ‘Computer, seal all leaks. Keep air supply constant,’ he ordered. ‘Family, come close to me.’

‘We will die, won’t we, Sandik?’ Shuok asked nervously.

‘We will not die,’ Sandik told him firmly, putting his arms around his children. ‘We will all stay close together like this, and nothing will harm us.’

T’Ganu picked up the baby from the cot, and came to join her husband.

‘I hear it approaching,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Sandik – ’

Nobody knew what ‘it’ was. But then she felt a terrible throbbing pain in her body, and she threw herself flat on the floor, over the baby. There was a scream from her daughter, and she heard Shuok sobbing. There was no noise from Sandik. She didn’t know if it was because her husband was dead already, or because of his amazing ability for mental discipline. The pain grew to an agonising ripping sensation, and the woman kept her eyes closed so she didn’t see what was happening to her body. The sensation spread to touch her face, then, mercifully, the world ceased to exist for T’Ganu.

******

A shimmering transporter beam appeared like falling gold-dust, then solidified, setting two people down amongst the rough red rocks and blowing sand of a Vulcan desert. Captain James Kirk materialised slightly before Mr Spock, and was looking around before his Vulcan first officer could move.

‘Are you sure Scotty put us down in the right place?’ he asked doubtfully.

His first officer nodded briefly, then proceeded to scan his eyes across the view. The pair were surrounded by tall red spires of rock, that looked for all the world like some invading army turned to stone by magic as they marched across the desert.

‘This does not seem the optimum location into which to beam a living individual,’ Spock commented, eyeing the forest of tall, close packed rock formations. ‘But the co-ordinates were correct.’ He turned his tricorder on the rocks ahead of him, scanning and reading the results swiftly. ‘We’re one mile from the village. Close enough to walk to, but far enough away to be obscured from view if necessary.’

‘But this is desert,’ the captain protested. ‘No one could live here. It’s hotter than a blast furnace, and about as dry as that, too.’ As he spoke a burning breeze licked at his face, feeling no cooler than the air around him.

‘We are on the edge of the desert. The fringe-lands.’

Spock spoke confidently, without bothering to check his readings again. It was as obvious to him as if Kirk had been beamed into the centre of an Iowa cornfield. Spock took a deep breath of the Vulcan air, gazing up into the red sky.

‘Nice to be home?’ Kirk chuckled, squinting in the sun.

‘There are few planets like Vulcan,’ Spock replied enigmatically.

‘You can say that again.’ The scorching heat of the Vulcan sun was already beginning to make the human’s lips and face tingle, and he hurriedly smeared more sunscreen over the exposed parts of his body.

‘You should be wearing a hat, Captain,’ Spock commented, looking sideways at him. ‘It is best for humans to shade their heads on my planet.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Kirk promised. ‘New Starfleet invention, Spock. Sunscreen you spray on your hair.’ He patted the top of his head. ‘And it seems to work. I can barely feel the heat here.’

‘This will, at least, be an effective test,’ Spock said doubtfully. ‘Captain, I believe we must walk in that direction.’

Spock extended a long arm towards the south, and began walking without further comment. As they came around a towering crag of pinkish sandstone, a dim blur of bluish-green became visible on the horizon.

‘So plants do grow in this imitation hell,’ Kirk muttered.

‘Naturally,’ Spock said smoothly, ignoring the insult to his planet, ‘as Vulcans are plant eaters. There are cooler pockets of vegetation, Captain. You would call them oases. That is mostly where villages spring up. In the more temperate polar circles, and in certain mountainous areas, there are vast expanses of leafy plants.’

‘I’ll take your word for it.’

Spock scanned the area around them once more. ‘There are no life forms registering, Captain, although at this distance, only massed life forms would be distinguishable. But I find it disturbing that I read very little animal life in our immediate vicinity.’

‘Then we better push on to this village,’ Kirk suggested. He could feel his clothes becoming heavy with sweat, sticking to his skin, and was he impatient to get this assignment over and have a refreshing shower on the ship. Then, as they rounded another rocky outcrop, Spock bent and picked something up off the sand.

‘Look, Captain.’ He carefully held the mutilated body of a rabbit-like creature, its light orange fur matted with dark green blood. ‘And there.’ He pointed to another on the sand. ‘These were not killed by any predatory beast. Something else injured them. A Vulcan would not kill them. Definitely would not leave them after killing them.’

Kirk knelt down to examine the other creature. He reached out toward it, but Spock jerked his hand back.

‘Sir. Your clothes are heat-resistant, but if your hand were to touch the sand it would burn you.’

He picked up a handful of the grains, then wetted a finger and touched them. Kirk drew in breath as he heard the moisture sizzle away in an instant.

‘Doesn’t that hurt you, Spock?’ he asked. ‘It must be burning right through your palm.’

‘Vulcans are born to this sand, and bred to it. We can walk on it with our feet bare.’ He said it as a simple fact, without pride. ‘It’s only in a heat wave that we must protect ourselves from it.’

Kirk looked up towards the sun. He didn’t dare imagine how much hotter than this a Vulcan heat wave would be. Spock laid the animal back on the sand, then dropped the handful of dust and straightened up. ‘I suggest that we make haste, sir. There may be people injured or dying.’

******

Spock picked his way slowly through the still smoking ruins of the Vulcan village called Ly’Gotja. Soft grey ash crunched and hissed under his boots as he walked, sending clouds of dust up into the air to settle lightly in a film over his clothes and face. He turned, to see his captain following tentatively, covered in the same dusting of ash.

‘It seems safe, Jim,’ he decided, looking up at the blackened, swaying walls of half burned houses.

‘But what happened here?’ Kirk asked for the tenth time, panting in the hot, thin air. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, leaving a dark smear of soot and sunscreen. ‘This is a small, isolated village. No threat to anyone.’

‘This village was home to a tiny clan,’ Spock told him. ‘It was hardly known by others on my planet. They did not make contact with the outsiders. It was where my father’s niece, T’Syan, lived.’ He turned and pointed to a wrecked building. ‘That is her home. She must have perished.’

Kirk turned to regard Spock. The Vulcan’s capacity for coming out with startling statements in a completely emotionless way never ceased to amaze him. As level as his voice was, however, he was deliberately keeping his gaze averted from his captain’s eyes.

‘I’m sorry, Spock,’ he said.

‘It’s regrettable. She was an intelligent and logical woman,’ Spock said quietly, then looked up at his captain again, his dark eyes unreadable. ‘The fire may have been an accident, Captain,’ he said doubtfully. ‘Vulcan is a hot planet. Fires can start easily.’

‘We wouldn’t’ve been sent here for a bush-fire,’ Kirk said tersely. ‘Vulcan doesn’t call on Starfleet ships to investigate this kind of loss of contact without proper suspicions – although I don’t know why they didn’t send their own people.’

‘ We  _were_ already visiting Vulcan when the order came through,’ Spock pointed out. ‘Vulcan does not often encounter violence or mass death. We are, perhaps, more suited to investigate, especially in an area of the planet that does not take much note of official government. We must at least consider the possibility of an accidental blaze.’

‘Look around you, Spock.’ Kirk indicated the blackened, twisted bodies around them heavily. ‘They would have run. Tried to get away at least. It’s like it was all over in a second. All just struck down where they were standing before it happened. And it wasn’t just a fire. It was an inferno.’

Spock inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement of the fact, then glanced hopefully at some of the less affected homes towards the fringes of the village.

‘There may be survivors.’

‘We better split up,’ Kirk nodded. ‘Search the houses.’

He cursed as a gust of hot wind sent a swirl of ash up into the air to stick to the cream on his face. It was useless trying to wipe the stuff off.

‘I would advise caution,’ Spock told him. ‘Some of these structures may not be entirely safe.’

‘I know.’ Kirk scanned around him briefly, and picked a closely built cluster of buildings. ‘Look. I’ll go look through those houses, you take the other street.’

Spock nodded agreement, and strode off towards the dark entrance to the narrow street ahead of him. The place wasn’t exactly inviting. The opening yawned like a hungry black mouth, ready to swallow anything that ventured into it. The overhanging, fire-blackened buildings absorbed almost all light from the bright Vulcan sun, adding to the sense of foreboding. But such superstition was illogical, and Spock focussed solely on the tricorder readings that would alert him to the presence of life.

As Spock walked forward into the gloom, his eyes became adjusted to the dim light. He looked around in dismay at the wrecked buildings, then activated his tricorder and began to scan for life forms. He drew in his breath sharply as the device registered one person still alive.

Slowly he followed the strengthening signals, until he reached a half fallen cottage a hundred yards down the tiny road. The tricorder showed vibrations indicating that the building was ready to collapse. He touched the blackened door lightly with his hand, and it crumbled into dark, soft ash.

The walls of the room inside had been white, but now they were streaked with soot and burn marks. There was furniture strewn and twisted on the floor, barely recognisable, as if it had been blown apart by some kind of explosion. Spock reached out a finger to touch a sooty metal cabinet, but drew it back quickly. The metal was still too hot to touch.

Spock lifted his head again, searching the room for any sign of the life he had registered. There was a door ahead of him, solid metal, hardly touched by the flames. Spock confirmed that that was where the life form was, set the faithful tricorder to record whatever he found, then lifted his phaser. The door resisted the first beam, but melted away under the full force of the weapon. He stepped inside the tiny room and flashed a torch across the walls, then froze with unchecked shock.

The bright beam showed a whole family huddled on the floor, expressions of total un-Vulcan terror on their faces. Spock knelt by the nearest body. A young girl, dead, her cold white skin streaked with dark green blood.

‘Deformed?’ Spock asked himself, noticing the strange angles of her limbs.

He touched the blood that was thick down one of the arms. It was still wet. Tentatively, he reached out a finger, and gently drew the lids down over glassy, horror-stricken eyes. He flashed the beam on another face. A woman, who was obviously the mother, another child, a man, all dead, all grotesquely malformed, as if they had been sent through a faulty transporter.

Spock permitted himself a pang of sadness at seeing the whole family dead. No out-worlder knew just how close a Vulcan family could be. Under all the impassivity, and cold, non-emotion, family ties were strong and fierce. They had died together, trying to protect each other.

But the life form still registered. Slowly, keeping down a wave of nausea, Spock turned the woman over and laid her down by the wall. He turned back to a small bundle that the mother had been protecting under her own body. He picked up the huddle of red blankets and walked slowly backwards, away from the bodies, sinking down onto his haunches. He prised his communicator from his belt and flipped it open.

‘Spock to Captain Kirk.’

Jim’s reply was immediate. ‘Kirk here. What’ve you found?’

‘One survivor, Captain,’ Spock said quietly. ‘A baby, unharmed.’

‘A – baby?’ Kirk asked in wonder.

‘Yes. I found it in a fire proof room, amongst the bodies of its family. Obviously the room was not totally effective against this conflagration. The heat itself may have started an additional fire in the room.’

‘You think the fire killed them?’ Kirk asked.

Spock shook his head, regarded the huddled bodies again. ‘I don’t believe so. The bodies are not incinerated – only cut and bruised, with slight burns. I believe that the burning occurred after death. The tricorder records no signs of smoke inhalation. And, Captain - they are also deformed, as if something had tampered with their molecular structure.’

Kirk was silent for a moment, as that fact registered, then his voice crackled through the communicator again. ‘There’s no one else, Spock. They’re all dead.’

‘I suggest that we beam these bodies up for autopsy, sir. Also a burnt body, for comparison. Can you locate me if I leave the channel open, Captain?’

‘Yes, Spock. I’m right at the other end of the village. I’ll be with you in five minutes.’

‘Very well. Spock out.’

Spock laid the communicator carefully down on a blackened table, then turned his attention to the baby. He unwrapped a fold of blanket and saw its pale face, eyes screwed closed. He didn’t know whether the stillness was from fright, or if it was just sleeping. He put his ear close to the mouth, and heard regular, deep breaths. He unwrapped the crumpled blankets, then folded them around the baby more comfortably. As he did, the child opened its eyes and began to cry.

Spock stared at the wall, not knowing what to do. He hardly ever encountered children on the  _Enterprise_ , let alone babies. Then he looked down again and saw the fear in the child’s tiny face. It shivered violently, and the terrified wailing began to get louder. Spock stood up and rocked the baby gently in his arms, speaking to it softly. He turned towards the back wall, away from the sight of the dead bodies. Eventually he eased a hand up to the baby’s face and touched it with his fingers, sending calming thoughts through a light mind-meld.

‘There, girl child,’ he said quietly in Vulcan. ‘Sleep now.’

Something clattered in the doorway, and Spock turned, beginning to speak.

‘Captain. You did not take long to get - ’ He looked up, and trailed off, staring into the grey muzzle of a phaser pistol. ‘Who are you?’

The man behind the phaser said nothing.

Spock raised an eyebrow, the only visible sign of his startlement as he took in the face before him. The person was obviously humanoid. His hands and face were laced with ornate black tattoos that disappeared into the sleeves and collar of an earthy brown jacket, matching his ankle-length trousers. His head was covered by a swathe of dark cloth, arranged as protection from the sun and blowing sand, but it revealed enough of his face to show his skin, coloured with a coppery red pigmentation, and with upward sweeping eyebrows just like Spock’s own.

‘I did not believe – ’ Spock began, before faltering off with uncharacteristic uncertainty. He turned the baby against his chest cautiously. ‘Please identify yourself.’

The man gave no answer, but his eyes glinted with cold hatred, and he let a spurt of savage power fly from the phaser. Spock reacted instantly, turning his body away to shield the baby from the strike, but there was no way that he could evade it completely. He sagged onto his knees, and crumpled silently to the ground.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Spock moved his aching head weakly, registering not much more than that his skull was thinly cushioned by some kind of rudimentary pillow, and that his temples were throbbing with something akin to a hangover. He felt totally drained of energy. After a few long seconds he managed to open his eyes, lift his head and look around him. He was in a dimly lit room, lying in a high bed by a stone wall. He forced his eyes to focus, and saw a door on the opposite side of the room. The wood it was made from was heavy and hardened with age. The logical assumption was that it was also locked. His captor had also apparently taken his phaser, along with his tricorder and communicator.

His captor… A memory of the small glimpses of the man’s skin he had seen before he had been stunned wavered in his mind. That pigmentation… And the tattoos… An uncomfortable, uncertain feeling of apprehension blossomed again in his mind. That pigmentation…

No. He was too far tired to give thought to that now. Logic demanded he allow himself to recover further before considering his captor. He let his head sink back onto the pillow, and concentrated on recovering his energy. He had been hit by heavy phaser stun before, and knew it was useless to try to function yet in any useful capacity.

He shivered. It was cool almost to the point of discomfort in the room, especially after the burning heat of the Vulcan sun. So much time spent on a ship built for humans helped toleration of cooler temperatures, but the dry Vulcan heat was still what Spock preferred, and he was glad of the thick blankets someone had lain over him. He shifted the position of a trembling, half-numb arm, and with some surprise felt the baby by him, its hands clinging to his dusty top.

‘What is your name, child?’ he murmured quietly in Vulcan, mostly to see if his mouth would work. He pressed his fingers against her chest, and felt the flutter of a heart beat.

‘You were not killed by the phaser, girl-child. You are a survivor.’

He touched the face with his hand for a second time, probing deeper into the baby’s mind, stirring abstract memories.

‘T’Si,’ he whispered. ‘That is your name. Two months old. Oh, I’m hungry,’ he sighed, searching the room with his eyes. ‘No. You are hungry.’

He released the mind contact before his thoughts could become any more meshed into hers, but the baby clutched at his finger before he could completely withdraw his hand, drawing it to her mouth and sucking on it with astonishing strength.

‘I am sorry,’ Spock said softly. ‘There is no food. I have nothing to feed you with.’

He closed his eyes again. His body ached with weakness, and soon he succumbed to the pressure, and slept again. The next time he woke he found he was able to sit up and swing his legs over the edge of the bed. Someone had obviously been in the room in the interim. There was a traditional Vulcan water jug and washing bowl that hadn’t been there before, on a small wooden table on the other side of the room.

Spock slid off the bed onto his hands and knees, and stayed there for a moment, gathering his strength. His entire body was still shaking with weakness. He wanted the water, desperately, but he had to prioritise. If he could reach the water, he could also reach the door. He crawled inch by inch across the floor, until he could touch his palm to the chill wood panels. He heaved himself up against it, satisfying himself that it was definitely locked, before sinking back down to the floor.

He sat for a moment, gathering his strength, until he was able to lug the heavy jug down onto the floor. He drank deeply, feeling the water revive himself a little. Then he poured a tiny amount of the water into the basin the jug stood in, and washed his face and hands, refreshing himself a little. The water turned black from the amount of soot he had scrubbed off his skin.

As he wiped his face dry with his palms he noticed a hunk of bread by the jug, and he struggled back to the bed with it and the water. The baby was awake, lying very still and staring at him from depthless black eyes.

‘You are too young to chew,’ he said to the baby. ‘But you have not eaten for a long time. It is not pleasant, but we must resort to primitive methods.’

He took a little water and bread into his mouth, and chewed it until it was a liquid, then pressed his lips to the baby’s and released the thin gruel into her mouth. At first she shook her head blindly, dribbling the mixture out over her cheeks – but at the second attempt she swallowed, and then hungrily opened her mouth for more. Carefully he chewed and fed bread into the baby’s mouth until she ceased to accept it, then ate the rest himself.

‘I do not know why we are here, or indeed where we are, but it must have something to do with the murder of your family; the burning of your home village,’ Spock said to the child.

The corners of his mouth quirked upwards at her impassive lack of response. Speaking to her was logical. It would reassure her, not to mention assisting her natural development. Nevertheless, he felt self-conscious as he did it.

‘We must escape from here,’ he continued, but he broke off as his sensitive ears detected a quiet tapping in the wall near the foot of his bed. Gradually he made out a word in Morse code, being repeated and repeated.

‘K - I - R - K. Jim?’ Spock asked, raising his voice. ‘Is that you?’

‘It’s me,’ came a muffled voice from the other side of the wall. ‘I’m glad you’ve decided to stop talking to yourself. I didn’t know how I was gonna make you hear me without antagonising the guards.’

‘I was talking to the child,’ Spock explained briefly. ‘Are you also incarcerated, Captain? Are you hurt?’

‘Door’s locked. The place is pretty obviously a cell,’ the voice replied. ‘Someone slugged me - knocked me out, but I’m more or less recovered. Can you come closer to the wall, Spock?’

‘I can attempt to do so.’ Spock snuggled the baby down on his pillow, then crawled out of the bed again and reached the wall, leaning against it to ease the aching tiredness. ‘Here, Jim.’

‘You sound tired, Spock?’

‘I was hit by a phaser, on heavy stun. I have experienced intermittent consciousness for the last two hours. I am only weak, Captain, not injured. I have a rather forceful headache.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘Do you know how long we have been here?’ Spock asked curiously. His time sense had failed him through unconsciousness.

‘Maybe seven hours. I can’t be sure,’ Kirk replied. ‘You’ve certainly been out of it for long enough. Phaser stun’s a pretty nasty thing.’

‘I am now fully aware of that, sir,’ Spock said with feeling.

‘And the baby, Spock?’ Kirk asked quickly. ‘Is it okay?’

Spock glanced up at the baby, still wrapped in her red blanket on his bed. He knew that under normal circumstances she would be screaming, terrified to be out of mental contact with her family for the first time, but now she was sleeping again, exhausted.

‘I believe I was successful in protecting her from the full force of the stun,’ he told Kirk. ‘My body absorbed the majority of the shock. She is weak, hungry, and understandably traumatised, but I am endeavouring to take care of her to the best of my abilities, Captain.’

‘Of course you are. Spock, did you see the people that captured us?’ Kirk asked, his voice rising with curiosity. ‘I’ve never seen anyone like them. That red skin...’

‘Agreed,’ Spock said briefly.

He had no desire to expand on that evasive answer. It was perfectly true that he had never seen another being with skin like that, first hand. He chose not to share with Kirk the possibilities that were running through his mind regarding their captors’ identity. It did not seem practical to attempt to verbalise his apprehensions through a solid stone wall.

‘The man who captured me would not speak to me,’ he said. ‘He did not identify himself.’

‘Me neither. I guess we won’t know who they are until they decide to talk.’

‘No. That is possibly … quite true … C-captain.’

Spock’s voice faltered, suddenly exhausted, and he let his breath out with a sigh. The coolness of the room was enhancing the effects of the stun on his body, to the point where his lips felt too numb to form words.

‘Spock, are you all right?’ Kirk asked anxiously.

‘I’m ... feeling the effects ... of stun exhaustion.’

Spock grasped at his woollen blanket from his bed with numbed fingers, and covered himself with it wearily, shivering. His mind was fogging over with the confusion of exhaustion.

‘Spock!’ Kirk called again, but the Vulcan did not reply. Kirk jumped up from his place by the wall, and pounded his fists on the thick wooden door of his cell. ‘Hey,’ he shouted. ‘Will someone let me out of here? Hey!’

Finally a deep, sonorous voice answered from outside the cell. ‘What?’

‘Will you let me through to my friend?’ Kirk asked. The urgency was clear in his voice. ‘We were talking. He went quiet.’

‘And why should I let you through?’ the voice continued, deep and harsh.

‘He’s been hit with phaser-fire that must’ve been bordering between stun and kill,’ Kirk snapped. ‘You can die from the after-effects of that kind of attack. You don’t want him to die, do you?’

There was a long hesitation, then the voice commanded, ‘Turn your back to the door.’

Kirk obeyed quietly, and heard the door behind him opening with a creak. A rough cloth was tied around his eyes. Then hands took his arms firmly and pushed him around and out of the cell, into the one next door. Kirk tore off the blindfold to see the door closing after him. The lock grated closed. Kirk made a brief survey of the cell, seeing it was identical to his, and then saw Spock lying slumped against the wall, his face an unnatural shade of grey.

‘Spock?’ he asked, kneeling by him. ‘You okay?’

The Vulcan inclined his head slightly, and a faint whisper came from his lips. ‘Only tired and cold. Unwell.’

‘Hmm. That phaser must’ve been set higher than heavy stun, the barbarians...’ Kirk muttered. He took Spock’s hand and patted at it, trying to stimulate blood flow, then checked his pulse. ‘Your extremities look grey, but your pulse seems acceptable. Let me get you back into bed.’

Kirk took the baby and laid her carefully on the stone flagged floor in her cocoon of blood-red blankets, then lifted Spock with an effort and put him back in the bed, covering him with his own blankets again.

‘I think the doc would prescribe bed rest,’ he smiled. ‘There’s nothing else I can do for you, anyway. You’ll have to let time do what Bones’s miracle cures would do normally.’

‘I am inclined to agree,’ Spock murmured.

His eyes were fluttering closed even as he spoke, and he drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep..

******

The sound of a baby screaming pierced Spock’s sleep. Instinctively he made to put his hands over his ears, but even as he moved he suddenly remembered exactly where he was and what had happened. His eyes snapped open, his body tensed in anticipation of danger – but there was no danger. There was simply a baby, screaming, and Kirk pacing the small room with her, joggling her up and down to try and calm her.

‘Captain,’ he said, with more strength in his voice than he had had before. ‘Let me.’

Kirk turned to look at the Vulcan. ‘The baby?’ he asked, raising his voice over the screaming. ‘Sure. I can’t soothe her. I’ve tried everything. At least, everything I can do lacking a few vital assets…’

Spock pushed himself to a sitting position, then held out his arms and took the baby. Immediately he felt the turmoil in the child’s mind. He had touched her mind gently, probing memory and calming her, but the child was missing the sh’lana - the important, ever-present mental contact of her mother and father. The link would have been established a few minutes after birth, and now it had been abruptly and cruelly shattered. He explained the need quietly to Kirk.

‘I must perform a new sh’lana,’ he said finally. ‘The child must have some mental link with another Vulcan, or it will inhibit her telepathic and emotional growth, leading to great problems in later life when she learns to control those emotions and mental processes.’

‘And what about you, Spock?’ Kirk asked worriedly. ‘How will this link affect you?’

‘It will bring me extremely - close - to the child,’ Spock said gravely. ‘And that is essential. It will mean that the needs of the child come before all else. I must be her surrogate parent, now she has lost both, until a suitable foster family is found.’

‘And can you break the contact when that happens?’ Kirk asked in concern. The last thing he needed was a First Officer who was also a nursery maid.

‘I can lessen it,’ Spock nodded succinctly. ‘At any rate, I have no choice. The meld must be done by a Vulcan, and I am the only Vulcan who presently has access to the child.’

‘Well, I can’t order you not to,’ Kirk half smiled.

‘It will only take a moment.’

Spock touched the screaming child’s face gently with his fingertips. He was silent for a moment, and his gaze seemed to turn inward on his mind with the deep concentration. Then he focused again, and spoke softly, ‘ _Cvi, ny T’Si. Cvi. Ty urt vaciijne._ ’ He looked up at Kirk’s bewildered face.

‘I told her to quiet. She’s tired. She’ll sleep now.’

‘Good.’ Kirk perched himself on the thin wooden edge of the bedframe that rose above the mattress like the edge of a box. He studied Spock’s face. ‘You look better, or is it just pig-headed Vulcan stamina?’

‘The stun effects are wearing off, Captain,’ Spock nodded. ‘I will be perfectly recovered in a short time. I take it you were lured into a trap by my communicator, sir?’

‘Yes. I just got in the house and they jumped me,’ Kirk said, sounding annoyed. ‘Knocked me out with a nerve pinch. You were gone already. I - saw what happened to the people in there.’

‘Yes. It was not obvious in the others. They were burnt beyond recognition. But the family in that room...’ Spock trailed off, hardly able to put what he had seen into words.

‘I know - but how - ?’

‘It must have to touch the subject to be effective, and it cannot pass through one body to another, Captain,’ Spock said prosaically. When he saw the puzzlement on the man’s face he explained, ‘The baby was in the room with them - and yet she was unaffected. She was under the mother’s body, as if the mother were desperately trying to protect her from some external force. They knew they were being attacked. And there is another factor, Captain.’

‘What’s that?’

‘The family had a fire proof room in their house. Fires do occur on Vulcan, but not that often, and they are usually controllable. Why should they have a room so heavily guarded against fire, unless - ?’

‘Unless they were expecting it,’ Kirk finished off. ‘Spock, do you think - ’

‘Captain, someone approaching,’ Spock interrupted swiftly. ‘I hear four sets of footsteps.’

Kirk looked toward the door. ‘Maybe we’re going to get some answers after all.’

The door opened outwards. Two guards of graceful build stepped in through the doorway, while the other pair waited outside. What shocked Kirk about this quartet of obviously emotional, possibly violent, copper-skinned guards was that their sweeping eyebrows and sharp-tipped ears clearly pointed toward a Vulcan ancestry. He glanced sideways at Spock, and the Vulcan raised one eyebrow to him in the equivalent of a shrug. Behind that, however, Kirk had a feeling that his friend and first officer knew more about these beings than he was choosing to disclose.

‘Well?’ the captain asked lightly. Now was not the time to discuss these people’s genetic heritage with Spock.

‘Come,’ one of the guards said shortly.

‘The child?’ Spock asked.

‘She will stay. Someone will watch her. You will speak with Sha’Vir,’ he said, in halting English.

‘ Sha’Vir,’ Spock repeated, nodding as if something had been confirmed. ‘A Vulcan word, Captain - an old Vulcan title. It means  _leader_ .  _Vulcan urt ty_ ?’ he asked the man.

‘ _Cvika!_ ’ he snapped, with a sharp, swift cut of his hand through the air.

‘I asked him if he is Vulcan,’ Spock told Kirk quietly.

‘And is he?’

Spock raised a disgruntled eyebrow. ‘He told me, somewhat rudely, to shut up. In High Vulcan.’

******

Kirk and Spock stood stiffly in a small room that had evidently been hollowed straight out of the natural, copper-coloured sandstone. Spock’s eyes explored the cave, taking in every small detail, and remembering it. He made up his mind to note every detail down for the Vulcan history files when he got back to the  _Enterprise_ . There were ornate, traditional rugs hanging on the reddish walls and spread across the floor, woven in shades of red and earthy colours from natural dyes. An odd assortment of antique furniture was scattered through the room, as if each piece had been acquired from a different place. It looked as if the contents of a Vulcan antique furnishings store had been beamed into this place, and hastily arranged to give an impression of home.

Despite the attempts at furnishing the room, it still looked like a cave. And despite the fact that there were guards on the doors and guards standing at the sides of the room, the Starfleet officers’ hands were tied behind their backs with painfully tight, blood-starving leather loops. The apparent homeliness of the décor lost a good deal of its charm in the face of that fact.

In front of the two stood a tall, regal looking man, with skin of the same red colour as the others, but with black tattoos more ornate and striking, presumably denoting authority of some kind. His dark brown hair was cut short, like any other Vulcan Kirk had seen, but his strong red arms were bare, and the tattoos continued up them, suggesting that they covered the whole body. He wore carved bone rings around his fingers, matching the necklaces of tooth and bone about his neck.

‘The markings are ancient Vulcan symbols, if I remember correctly,’ Spock said to Kirk in an undertone. ‘He is a Sha’Vir.’

Kirk regarded the man through narrowed eyes. He was listening, but making no attempt to stop the conversation.

‘What were these Sha’Virs then?’ he asked Spock.

‘There was an ancient tribe, Captain, red skinned, believed now to be extinct,’ Spock said in a low, quick tone. ‘The Lyr-Tyok. Vulcans who shunned the emotional disciplines and continued to live as savages, in the underground cave systems. They caused – great problems for my people for many, many years. They ate meat, indulged in murder and violence. They tortured, enslaved and murdered thousands because our refusal to fight in those early decades made us easy prey. In those times the leader of the tribe would be named the Sha’Vir. We have long since evolved past such roles. The Tyok obviously have not.’

‘Absolutely correct,’ said the man who stood before them, his voice clearly displaying both a Vulcan accent and a good deal of assured confidence. ‘You stand before Sha’Vir Seyak. You are privileged to have this opportunity.’

‘Kneel before the Sha’Vir,’ ordered a strong looking guard, in a voice that would not tolerate disobedience. Kirk noticed that his hand was poised on the handle of a long knife at his hip, that looked in design much like the baby cousin of a lirpa.

The two men were thrust forward roughly and pushed to their knees. Kirk deemed it prudent to stay where he was on the colourful rug, but Spock, against all logic, promptly got back to his feet.

‘Kneel!’ the Sha’Vir snapped firmly.

‘Sha’Vir Seyak, I cannot kneel before you,’ Spock said calmly but stiffly.

The leader’s hand flashed out, and he struck Spock hard across the face. Spock was staggered briefly by the man’s strength, but when he recovered himself he stood motionless, staring him straight in the eye. He could feel blood trickling down his cheek where the red Vulcan’s rings had cut him.

‘You shall do as I say, or feel my wrath,’ the man threatened softly. ‘I promise my wrath will not be pleasant.’

‘ Sha’Vir Seyak, I  _cannot_ kneel in front of you,’ Spock said more firmly.

‘Spock, save it,’ Kirk urged him, wondering what had got into his first officer. ‘Just kneel. Practice diplomacy.’

Spock glanced sideways at Kirk. There was no way he could explain the full intricacies of ancient Vulcan law to his captain at this time. There was even less chance of him  _ever_ being able to explain the ages-old sense of honour that bound every Vulcan to uphold such law. If Seyak was going to bring Spock under his control, it would have to be through a show of force, not through the obeying of his spoken demand, no matter how painful that show of force might be.

‘Captain, if I were to kneel before this man I would be acknowledging my inferiority and pledging my obeisance to him,’ Spock said, impatience entering his tone. ‘I am a descendant of the House of Surak. I cannot do that.’

Such legalities had always seemed archaic and irrelevant to Spock, a white Vulcan who never had, and never expected to, come across a Tyok. They still were irrelevant to Kirk, an alien to the planet. But Spock knew that the law had never been altered, and logically a Vulcan court would have no choice but to honour it, no matter how bizarre it seemed. Spock was forced to believe in this situation that the Seyak would exact that law to the letter, and he had no desire to become subject to the control of a man who had evidently committed such atrocities as they had witnessed in Ly’Gotja.

‘Spock, surely logic – ’ Kirk began to protest.

‘Logic, Captain, does not rule every facet of Vulcan life,’ Spock said darkly. ‘This is how the Tyok gain their chattel. Would you expect me to pledge myself to be a slave?’

Kirk stared at him for a moment in disbelief. He had never imagined that such primitive ideas could still exist on Spock’s modern, logical planet.

‘ You are trying my patience,’ Seyak interrupted. ‘Will you kneel,  _J’ha_ Spock?’

He spoke Spock’s name with the proper Vulcan intonation. Kirk didn’t know what the prefix had been, but Seyak had said the word in the same way a human might call someone a peasant.

‘I will not,’ Spock said.

‘Then, at a fit time, I will display the strength of my wrath to you. Guards, compel him.’

Spock found his shoulders being pressured irresistibly by hands behind him, until he sank to the ground, secure in the knowledge that he had at least not knelt of his own volition, and Seyak could claim no automatic ownership over him by his compliance.

The Sha’Vir walked across the room, and came back with a small, hand held device. Spock eyed it curiously. It was grey and compact, and looked to be of Starfleet design rather than Vulcan.

‘First we speak of more important matters,’ Seyak continued. He held the device out to them. ‘We took this from one of your associates.’

‘What associates? What is it?’ Kirk asked impatiently, his anger at the man intensified by the fact that he was having to hold this conversation while kneeling, looking up at Seyak as a child would to an adult.

‘You know what it is,’ Seyak said harshly. ‘But since you plead ignorance, I will be happy to demonstrate it.’

Kirk’s numbed, tightly-bound hands were abruptly cut free, and they began to tingle mercilessly as the blood flowed back.

‘Hold out your hand before you,’ Seyak ordered.

Kirk hesitated, and then, considering the strength and armament of the guards around him, he obeyed, holding out a hand beset with pins and needles in front of his body. Seyak turned the device on, and a faint red beam began to shimmer for a few inches beneath it.

‘Hold him steady,’ he said, and one of the burly guards bent to hold Kirk’s arm about the forearm with an iron grip.

Seyak moved the device closer to Kirk’s hand until the beam washed it with red light. Kirk instinctively tried to snatch his hand away, but the guard held it immovable. Spock watched with growing concern as the structure of Kirk’s hand began to waver and deform, veins, tendons and bones showing themselves with nauseating clarity as the flesh about them seemed to melt and drift. The captain clamped his mouth shut over a cry of agony, but just as he felt the pain edging him into a faint Seyak reversed the beam and his hand resumed its familiar shape, the most intense pain cutting off as if a switch had been thrown. He sagged a little lower on the floor, cradling his throbbing hand.

‘ Tyok!’ Spock said in a voice that was close to a growl. Perhaps it was the presence of so many Vulcans who had no mastery of the mind-rules, but at that second he felt closer to his primitive Vulcan passions than he had in years. ‘I will  _not_ allow this!’

‘ _You_ have not the authority here to allow or disallow anything,’ Seyak snapped furiously. ‘I will have discipline from you if I have to  _beat_ it into you! Guards,’ he said, beckoning two of his men forward. ‘Take him and teach him obedience. Have his back laid open.’ He looked at Spock with disgust, as if eyeing some repulsive animal. ‘And give him a little extra to teach him to control his tongue. You may also ask him some questions about why he is here. Use whatever methods you find necessary.’

Spock felt the hard muzzle of a weapon through his clothes. The Vulcan was marched from the room, two guards holding his arms, another pressing the weapon to his back. Kirk leapt up, but was pushed back down onto the rug by strong Vulcan hands.

‘Where are you taking him?’ he demanded angrily.

Seyak turned on him with a remarkably controlled expression. ‘You heard my orders. What more do you need to know?’

Kirk’s expression hardened. He barely wanted to imagine what might be about to happen to Spock at the hands of these most unpredictable Vulcans. Whatever was going on here, it was obviously an age-old feud that reached even beneath Spock’s Vulcan discipline. He didn’t have to worry about controlling these red Vulcans – he had no power in that matter. It was controlling an obviously disturbed and angry Spock that concerned him.

******

Spock was escorted into a small, grim room, furnished with little more than a narrow metal table, something like a barbaric version of McCoy’s medical examination tables, a small brazier, and a narrow lighting panel set in the ceiling. It was a far cry from Seyak’s office, but the light was the first thing Spock had seen that suggested that the Tyok did posses some modern technology. The walls of the room were carved from the same rock as the previous one, but they were devoid of decoration. This room’s purpose was evidently entirely practical. A number of tools and whips rested in a rack in the corner, and Spock studied them curiously, trying to keep a scientific detachment from what he knew their purposes to be from history texts studied in his youth.

The door slammed behind him, and it was locked and barred from the outside, making escape impossible even if he did somehow overwhelm the small pack of guards in here with him.  _Curiously logical,_ Spock couldn’t help but think.

‘I think the locked door will be sufficient to keep me in here,’ he said in a level voice, testing the strong leather strips that bound his hands. ‘Is it necessary to keep my hands bound?’

‘Not when chains will serve far better,’ came the taut answer from a muscular man by the bed, as the leather binding his hands was cut away. The man looked very much like the muscle-bound overseer who had stood guard at his aborted kun-ut-kal-if-fee. ‘We’ll need something strong to keep you still, I warrant, when the whipping begins.’

Spock regarded him steadily, not allowing the threat of what was about to be done to alter his expression. A hand pushed at his back, and he stumbled forward, barely resisting as he was roughly manhandled face forward onto the cold metal of the table. A guard pulled his arms above his head and his wrists were chained securely to the corners.

‘His ankles too,’ said the man by the bed. ‘Prepare him.’

A leather band was brought and Spock’s ankles were tied with it, loosely enough to walk, but too tight to run. He stayed silent, knowing there was no use in struggling. His bright blue Starfleet top was ripped roughly down the back and pulled away to reveal his bare skin, ready for the beating. The man sorted through the rack by the wall and selected a well used, narrow lashed whip.

Spock couldn’t see what the man was doing behind him, but heard the swish and crack as he tested the whip against the wall. The table was tilted a little, so that he was hanging uncomfortably from his arms, and the man ran the lash through his hand, satisfied it was the one he wanted.

Spock closed his eyes, beginning to sort mathematical problems through his mind to distract himself.

The lash came down on his unprotected back like a brand of flame, and every muscle in his body contracted in shock. The pain ricocheted through his body, causing his eyes to water. He drew in breath sharply, strengthening his discipline, and he didn’t move or speak as the whip cut into his skin a second time. It struck a third time, with more force behind it this time. The guard was obviously waiting for Spock to cry out, but he stayed expressionless and silent.

The man grew angry at Spock’s lack of reaction, beating him faster and harder, until his back was thick with welts and trickling blood.. The Vulcan’s breath came in rasping gasps, and he clenched his fingers tightly over the edge of the metal table until the knuckles turned as white as his face had gone, but he still made no noise of pain. Finally the only recourse left to him was to allow the pain to overwhelm him, and slip him into blessed unconsciousness.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Kirk winced each time he heard the faint swish and thud through the rocky walls. The sound carried on far too long for him to bear thinking about, but he heard no noise from the Vulcan. He closed his eyes for a moment, in silent sympathy, then turned to the Sha’Vir again, with unmasked fury in his hazel eyes.

‘How long are you going to keep that up on my science officer?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice level.

‘For as long as my T’kah-tor deems it necessary,’ Seyak replied, with a shrug of easy nonchalance. ‘Thrashing is an effective punishment. My men may stop when they consider the white Vulcan to have had enough. Then again, they may enjoy their task too much, and lose track of time.’

‘Don’t you care, one way or the other?’ the captain exploded.

‘ Your  _science officer_ ,’ the Sha’Vir said with contempt, ‘was both insolent and offensive to the High Sha’Vir of all the Vulcan Tyok. His actions warranted a beating as plainly as if he had begged on his knees for one. Of course, if he had begged on his knees, I may have been merciful,’ he added thoughtfully.

‘ Vulcan is a member of the Federation,’ Kirk tried to reason. ‘You are therefore subject to Federation laws. One of them is that physical punishment in any form is forbidden. Do you know what the penalty is for flouting one of these laws? For  _beating_ a Starfleet officer?’

The Sha’Vir pressed his lips together, folding his arms resolutely across his torso. ‘The Tyok population were not consulted when white Vulcans became members. Are the sehlats members, or the le-matya? I think not. White Vulcans are members of your Federation. Tyok are not. Therefore, the Tyok are not subject, in any way, to your Federation laws.’

Kirk gave in with a grumble of annoyance. If the Tyok hadn’t been given the opportunity to raise their views on joining with the Federation, they couldn’t be expected to obey their laws. But Spock was being beaten half to death. It took a lot of effort for him to bow his head respectfully towards the ground.

‘Sha’Vir Seyak, I plead with you to cease this punishment,’ he said in his meekest tone.

Seyak kicked him in the kneecap with a hard foot. ‘I will not listen to your insincere pleadings. The punishment will continue, and if you do not stay quiet, you will join your science officer.’

The captain sank back on his heels, watching the Sha’Vir cross the room. The man drew back a piece of heavy cloth hung on the wall, and the thuds immediately became louder. Kirk could see that Seyak was watching the proceedings though a hole cut, or perhaps naturally eroded, clean through the wall. He couldn’t see through it himself from his position low on the floor, no matter how hard he tried.

Kirk closed his eyes, and tried to close his ears to the constant swish, thwack, but it was impossible while he knew it was Spock in there. After a time, the Sha’Vir let the cloth drop, and went back to his desk.

The captain had counted at least thirty minutes in his head when he opened his eyes again. He turned his head sharply as he heard a breath that had turned into a gasping sob of pain. There was no more noise from Spock after that. Only swish, thwack, swish, thwack...

******

At last, the T’kah-tor stood back and surveyed his victim with something like pride. He wiped the bloodied whiplash on a piece of rag, then coiled it carefully and laid it back in its rack. He smiled his satisfaction. Spock had long since been beaten unconscious. Now the table was levelled and the Vulcan’s arms released. Spock lay silent and unmoving, his chest barely rising and falling with his shallow breaths.

The guards bent over him, worried now.

‘If you’ve killed him, we’ll all die at Seyak’s hands,’ said one anxiously in a low voice.

‘He’s not dead,’ said another. ‘Only properly humbled. I can see him breathing. The scars will make him more distinctive.’ Then, rather jealously he added, ‘A tribesman would be honoured by such scars, gained in defiance to another’s Sha’Vir.’

‘There haven’t been conflicts like that for centuries, since the white tribes became like plain-grazing harghems,’ the first said regretfully.

He took a handful of Spock’s hair and lifted the limp head to look at the face, as if to reassure himself the Vulcan was alive. Then he loosened his grip, and Spock’s head fell back onto the hard bed with a resounding clunk.

Spock opened one eye cautiously. He moved his hand very slightly, and no chain rattled. His arms had been freed, but there was a breath-taking smack of pain in his back as he moved. He blinked, clearing tears from his blurred eyes, and watched the small group of men as they turned away, talking. Five of them. He had taken on more humanoids than this before, and won. He considered it, weighing up the probabilities. Could he fight all of them and succeed, in his depleted condition? He had the element of surprise. Maybe he could escape, and somehow contact  _Enterprise_ . He decided that the possibility of success outweighed the consequences of failure. He had to at least try to get out.

Abruptly, Spock sat and took the nearest man’s shoulder in a neck pinch. The guard gave a slow sigh and sank to the floor. The rest spun around at the dull thud. Spock’s wrists were grabbed and held, twisted agonisingly behind his back before he could react. He struggled, but the beating had weakened him too much, and he was trying to fight four men who possessed the same Vulcan strength as he did.

A very light nerve pinch numbed and immobilised him, but didn’t knock him out. The iron whip stock smashed into his jaw, not breaking the strong bone, but jarring his skull and setting his head pounding. He was punched in the stomach and his body jack-knifed instinctively, then another fist caught his face as he doubled up, forcing his body upward again. Blood sprang from his nose, streaming over his lips and dripping from his chin.

Spock gasped, fighting for breath, as blotches of light and colour swam before his eyes. For a while he couldn’t think at all, then he inwardly cursed himself for being fool enough to try to take on all these men in a room locked from the outside. The beating must have affected his power of logical reasoning.

An order was snapped, and the men ceased in their assault. He wavered on his feet, the hands under his arms the only things that held him upright. The guard he had first attacked was carried from the room. The hands let go of him, and his legs buckled, forcing him to kneel on the floor until the nerve pinch wore off.

The T’kah-tor came forward rapidly and unexpectedly, striking like an angry snake. His hand came up under the Vulcan’s chin, and lifted. Spock strangled, suspended in the air for a long moment, then he was flung across the room. He landed hard on the floor by the wall, winded, unable to move. He was hauled to his feet and held upright by two guards. The man raised his fist, preparing to beat Spock into a coma, but a tall, calmer looking Vulcan came forward, motioning for the T’kah-tor to stay where he was.

‘We don’t want him dead,’ he said softly. ‘A dead man cannot speak. We only want him broken enough to wish to speak.’

‘I can break him, Styuk,’ the T’kah-tor said with intensity. It was obvious that adrenaline was coursing through his system, and there was very little holding him back from continuing his assault.

‘No. It is my time now. You may have him later.’ He brought his face close to Spock’s, intentionally invading the Vulcan’s personal space. ‘Maybe now we have loosened your tongue a little.’

‘I was under the impression that the objective was to teach me to control my tongue,’ Spock replied, with just enough of the sarcasm he had learnt from humans. Intentional or not, it was taken as insolence. The man pressed his fingers like claws into either side of Spock’s face, and pounded his head against the rough stone wall, just once. A protruding piece of rock made blood run warm through his hair.

‘Why did you destroy Ly’Gotja?’ Styuk asked softly. ‘How did you do it?’

‘I did not,’ Spock muttered through blood caked lips. He could feel his skin becoming tight as his blood dried over it in a thin film.

‘Where is your ship? How do we contact it?’

Spock stared back at him through one narrowed eye. The other was already swollen closed, the skin around it turning a deep green-black. A communicator was held up in front of his face.

‘How do we use this? I would like to speak to those who murder peaceful people while they sleep. I would like to persuade them to invite me to their ship, so that I may kill some of them before they kill me.’

‘I am not about to allow you to gain access to my ship,’ Spock said, gazing steadily back into the man’s eyes. His answer earned him another hard, migraine-forming slap across the skull with the whip handle. He closed his eyes briefly, concentrating on suppressing some of the pain. His interrogator leered at him.

‘You destroyed Ly’Gotja. Confess!’ he thundered, his quiet patience spent.

Spock shook his head slowly. ‘I did not destroy Ly’Gotja,’ he rasped through painful lips.

‘I may not be able to break a white Vulcan who has learned mental disciplines, but your human co-conspirator - he will not be so strong.’

Spock felt a coldness inside him. He knew a human could never stand up to Vulcan torture. He couldn’t let Jim be killed. And Spock knew Jim would be killed. The captain would never give up what the Tyok wanted to hear, because it simply wasn’t true.

‘You do not know Captain Kirk,’ he told them. ‘His mind is strong. He would tell you nothing even if he did know how the village was destroyed - and I keep repeating that we do not know that. There is no gain in torturing him too.’

The man nodded, and Spock thankfully saw that he believed him, at least in that.

‘But I could take it from your mind,’ he threatened softly, moving his fingers to Spock’s temples, and stopping just short of touching him.

‘You would not,’ Spock said with a confidence he did not feel. What the man was proposing was no less than mind-rape. ‘You are Vulcan. Even a Tyok would not violate the sanctity of another’s mind. And if you do, I shall draw your mind into mine until we are both insane. You do not have the discipline to stop me.’

The man let out his anger and frustration again in the form of another blow to Spock’s head.

‘You may knock me out if you wish,’ Spock said softly. ‘Or you may kill me. If you hit me a little harder, I may end up with a haemorrhage, or coma, or brain damage. I can talk under none of those conditions.’

The interrogator drew back reluctantly. ‘You are wise. You know I cannot take your thoughts, and you stand up to physical pain. There is no point in continuing with any interrogation.’

The T’kah-tor pushed forward through the other men roughly, and put a hand out to pull Spock to him by his collar.

‘There’s no gain in interrogating him like this, but some pleasure may be found from watching him grovel at our feet for mercy.’ He addressed his remarks to Spock again. ‘But we’ll remember that you showed the Vulcans you killed no mercy. You will confess,’ he snarled. ‘In the depths of pain, you will confess. We have ways to remedy the pain, in exchange for your confession.’

Spock raised an eyebrow, fighting to stay upright. ‘What will you do that you have not already done?’ he asked. ‘You have beaten me until my back is raw. You have thrown me about the room. You have hit my head until I can barely think. I cannot confess to something I have not done.’

‘ There are many things that  _I_ have not already done. There are many ways to extort confessions. Many painful ways. You injured one of my men. You used your hands to perform the task. You won’t do that for some time, I think. Physical pain may not affect you, but there is a way of harming the mind through the body. We will show you that Vulcans have not lost their ability for cruelty.’

He dropped Spock to the floor and picked up a poker, using it to stir the glowing coals in the brazier until they sparked and heat surged up from the dish. He pushed a metal bar deep into the coals, then bellowed the fire into flames. Spock clambered to his feet again with an effort, watching as the bar became red, then white hot. Finally the man picked the glowing bar up with tongs and held it an inch from the Vulcan’s face. Spock drew back, his eyes fixed on the glowing metal, feeling cold sweat running down his spine. He concentrated, and stopped the fear before he could betray himself.

‘Take both your hands and hold this bar,’ ordered the Tyok. ‘I am sure you recall the effectiveness of the punishment from Vulcan history.’

‘I remember,’ Spock said carefully. He recalled his history texts all too vividly. The heat of the bar would attack both his nerves and the meld-points in his fingers, and the pain would be unbearable, even to a master of the mind rules.

As he hesitated a phaser was pointed at him, so he walked forward and took the bar bravely in both hands. He gasped aloud as he picked it up and felt his hands burning onto the white hot metal. The pain of his other injuries paled to insignificance as the searing agony pushed out all other sensation.

A voice broke faintly through the screaming in his ears, sounding strangely detached and far away. ‘You will hold it until you confess, or it becomes cold.’

The heat burned and pulsed up his arms to his head, and there was a blinding, white-hot explosion in his mind. Then his vision began to return, and the room and people around him began to sway, moving close, then darting far into the distance.

_I will not faint_ , Spock told himself firmly. He closed his eyes, and strengthened his legs again, concentrating his mind on thoughts of coolness and calm. He would show these Tyok how a real Vulcan could endure. But even if pain could be suppressed, it still existed. He  _was_ being injured. He had been battered until his legs barely had the strength to hold him up, and the pain in his head was too much.

A word snapped into his consciousness. ‘Confess!’

The temptation of a palliative for the pain was great. He would have done anything for someone to just stop the agony. But logic told him the penalty for confessing to mass murder would be far worse than this. He wouldn’t confess. That in itself would be suicide.

He knew the Tyok were admiring him for his courage, for the fact that he didn’t cry out, or even let a shadow of the pain creep onto his face, but that was little comfort. He could not bear it any more. He could not…

His fingers snapped open, dropping the bar. The exposed flesh screamed to be protected and Spock curled his hands in towards his wrists until they set like that. The bar was picked up with tongs and forced back into his hands, and he couldn’t move the fingers to drop it again now. The ground suddenly seemed to fall away from under his feet, but he steadied himself, and sank to the floor through his own will, his mind screaming in pain. Hurt was the only stimulus entering his brain, excluding everything else, acting as effectively as a Klingon agoniser. He curled around his hands in the steadily growing blackness, struggling to enforce his Vulcan discipline, until at last it all disappeared in unconsciousness.

******

Kirk still knelt on the floor in the Sha’Vir’s office, trying desperately to be patient, but he felt as if he had been endlessly pacing up and down the room for years.

The terrible noise of the whip had stopped, but after that he heard sharp, short noises so like bone hitting bone that they chilled him right through. Then there was the murmur of voices, Spock’s voice, then, a little later, a thud like someone falling. Then there was silence for a long time. A scream, and sobs, then more silence.

He looked up at Seyak. The Vulcan was waiting patiently behind his desk, his keen ears listening to every movement in the room next door. Kirk wished for ears like that - he would have borne even the shape, if it meant he knew what was happening to his friend.

A few minutes later, the Sha’Vir cocked an ear towards the rocky wall, and smiled.

‘Your friend will be returning in a moment,’ he told Kirk. ‘Alive.’

******

Spock came around suddenly, ready for danger, as someone touched his face. He felt the floor rocking beneath him, and he was suddenly and miserably sick. The metal bar was torn away and his wrists were cuffed behind his back before he could even wipe his mouth. He lay on the floor, silent and defeated, knowing it was illogical to try to move. He wanted to cry, to sob, to scream with the full force of his lungs. Anything to divert his thoughts from the pain in his hands and mind. He wanted to let himself slip back into unconsciousness.

‘I am Spock,’ Spock whispered inaudibly, feeling the words keep his mind steady. ‘I am Vulcan. I will stay calm. I am Spock. I am Vulcan. I will stay calm...’

He tried to sit up, to show the Tyok he wasn’t affected by their attempts at punishment, but every movement made his body tremble and shake and set a hammer pounding inside his skull. He couldn’t do it. He felt himself slipping back into the darkness. A careless foot came down on his hand, but he didn’t feel it. His mind was burning with a terrible pain, far worse than that in his hands. He cried out with pain as someone spoke too close to him, and the noise was like needles in his brain. He knew that the heat had burnt through the pads in his fingers he used for mind meld. He knew it had raced up his arms, up the sensitive nerves, and damaged his mind, but he was too tired to care.


	4. Chapter 4

A sharp voice and a slap to his face jerked Spock out of the dark, peaceful haven of unconsciousness. A biting Vulcan drink swirled into his mouth and burnt a path down his throat, spilling over his lips. He was tired of slipping in and out of consciousness, but he choked and spluttered, feeling life return almost against his will. He took another mouthful, and found himself strong enough to sit up against the wall. Pain ripped through his back as he touched it to the cold stone, and he jerked forward, unable to suppress a gasp of shock. He sat wavering, unable to lean backwards, but hardly able to support his own weight.

‘Now, I think you have learned who is master of who,’ said the smooth voice of Styuk. ‘Will you obey now or must you take another lesson?’

‘I am not eager to die,’ Spock said grimly, forcing himself to appear calm and controlled despite the raging, flickering trails of pain that were still running through his mind.

A guard put a hand under Spock’s arm.

‘Good,’ said Styuk. ‘You will serve as a good example to your captain of how we treat disobedient prisoners.’

Spock was pulled to his feet, and the world reeled about him in a confused blur, but he managed to stumble slowly forward, leaning heavily on the guards.

******

Kirk spun around as Spock walked back into the room, held steady by two guards. There was no need for them to use force now. He walked obediently, his steps shortened by a jerking strap between his feet, torn shirt flapping away from his body. His face was smeared with blood, his nose and eye and jaw swollen and flushed with injury. He knelt quietly beside his captain in front of Seyak, his head bowed, barely able to hold his body upright.

Kirk reached out a hand quickly to hold Spock’s arm. He got neither help nor resistance from the Vulcan. Spock swayed even kneeling, looking as if he would fall if so much as a breeze touched him. He seemed to have retreated far into himself from something.

A cold feeling of hate for their captors ran through Kirk’s mind. The Vulcan seemed to have lost the will to fight. He had never seen Spock humbled like this. His friend’s face wore a blank mask and Kirk couldn’t even try to work out what was behind the staring eyes. The Vulcan looked more than just stunned. He looked absent.

‘Spock. Are you all right?’ he muttered.

There was a flinch of reaction in the white face. ‘I - would advise you - to obey them,’ he whispered haltingly, in a toneless voice. ‘They - they have no scruples - when it comes - t-to punishing - their prisoners. They - prefer the medieval approach.’

‘What have you done to him?’ Kirk asked the Sha’Vir furiously. ‘What did you do?’

Seyak came to stand over Spock, then looked at Kirk.

‘Your friend has been taught to kneel, and to control his tongue. Was anything found?’ he asked a guard.

‘Nothing, Sha’Vir. He would not yield to physical pain. And he would not permit a meld.’

‘I do not need his permission to enter his mind,’ Seyak smiled. ‘I will do so, later, and take what I wish of his thoughts.’ He turned back to the captain. ‘We will speak later, when the Vulcan is recovered,’ he decided. ‘He seems to be sufficiently subdued. My people did an admirable job.’

‘Admirable!’ Kirk echoed sarcastically. ‘Do you call torturing a person so far that they end up like this admirable?’

‘I do not like to harm living beings, but people such as you deserve nothing less. I will find out what I wish to know. Take them back to their cell for now,’ Seyak ordered. ‘Put them together. He’ll need a nursemaid to tend to him.’

As they stood up Spock stumbled, almost falling back to his knees, and one of the guards laid a blow on his already mutilated back before jerking him upright again. Seyak laughed shortly at the Vulcan’s uncontrolled gasp of pain. Kirk felt something inside himself snap at that cold, cruel laugh.

‘You bastard!’ He lashed out at the man’s grim face, but he was held back. ‘You have to torture a bound man,’ he ground out through clenched teeth. ‘You’re not brave enough to confront us.’

‘Take him!’ Seyak ordered sharply.

Kirk was dragged roughly from the room, handled with no more care than would be given a sack of rocks. Spock was pushed, and tried to follow. He managed two unsteady steps, but was attacked by a fit of violent trembling. His legs collapsed under him again and the ground came up to hit his face. He sank back gratefully into the velvet blackness, as a Tyok hand reached out to drag him up again. The guard slung the limp body over his shoulder and carried him after Kirk.

The two were put back in Spock’s small room, and the Vulcan was deposited unceremoniously in the bed. T’Si, Kirk was relieved to see, was deep in peaceful sleep in a small cradle at the side of the room. Spock lay unmoving on the bed, deep in unconsciousness. The door was slammed and locked, and they were left in silence.

Kirk busied himself with untying Spock’s ankles and straightening his twisted limbs, then he sat down beside him on the bed, touching a hand to his shoulder.

‘Come on, old friend,’ he urged. ‘Wake up, Spock. Wake up.’

He lightly touched one of the dark bruises on the Vulcan’s forehead, subconsciously noticing the marbled effect of green blood under the damaged skin.

‘What did they do to you?’ he asked with a sad sigh. ‘It couldn’t have just been physical. That couldn’t break you. What in hell could they do to make you give in like this, Spock?’ he asked desperately.

He gradually registered the green of Spock’s blood seeping into the sheet about his back. He lifted the Vulcan to a sitting position and saw that his ripped top was soaked with blood running from many whip cuts down his back. He gently pulled away the flaps of material, and his mouth gaped in horror at the terrible state of the skin underneath. There seemed to be more cuts and weals than there was bare skin.

‘My God,’ he gasped. ‘They should be living in the dark ages to torture someone like this.’

He rolled the limp Vulcan onto his side, arranging him in the recovery position, then ripped a sleeve from his own top, soaking it in the cold water from the pitcher. He cleaned the blood carefully from around the cuts, taking some of the sore heat with the water. He brushed Spock’s dark fringe off his forehead, and wasn’t surprised to find the skin burning. He went back to the jug to resoak the rag, to gently ease the dried blood from Spock’s face before he came around.

******

Spock climbed up and up towards a tiny speck of light above him. His body ached and pulsed with pain and his head seemed to be splitting apart with nauseating agony. His thoughts seemed to be chasing themselves about his mind, breaking off into half-formed ideas and incoherent intentions. He had to master the pain. He knew that much. But, with the crippling intensity of the agony in his mind, he was not sure how.

Suddenly the light sped towards him, and he opened his eyes, to be greeted by an apparent display of fireworks. His reflexes forced him to struggle to escape, but he was jerked back by something, and unguarded human thoughts flooded into his mind. Hands pushed him gently back onto the mattress and he fought back, desperately trying to squirm away, break away from the touch that hurt his psi-centres so much.

‘No. Spock. Spock! It’s me. Jim. It’s all right.’

Kirk had mistaken his violent struggling for fear. Then the hands withdrew, and the assault on his damaged mind ended.

‘Jim?’

Spock half relaxed and sank back into the bed, trembling with tiredness. He let his face set back into a blank mask, his eyes unfocused, looking inward into his mind to try to soothe the burning inside. Kirk stared at him with concern. This withdrawn, silent Spock was terrible to see. He felt sick, revolted at the barbaric way his friend had been treated, full of stunned sympathy for him.

‘It’s over now,’ Kirk said softly. ‘It’s over.’

‘There was – great pain,’ he whispered, not letting himself see Jim.

‘I know, but it’s over.’

Jim stroked a tense arm, trying to relax it. Both arms seemed nothing but knots of tension from the shoulders, increasing towards the clenched hands. The assault of thoughts hit Spock’s mind again, burning it, and he almost whimpered with the pain.

‘Please, no, don’t touch…’ he began with difficulty. It was so hard to think. ‘My mind…’

‘Your mind?’ Kirk repeated in concern, but he immediately withdrew his hands again. ‘Spock, what did they do to your mind?’

Spock shook his head slightly, and dizziness flooded over him.

‘Please, let me – try to heal,’ he murmured.

‘The healing trance?’ Kirk asked anxiously. ‘Will you need me to bring you out of it?’

‘I – can’t manage it,’ he said. ‘Please, let me be quiet… Give me time…’

He withdrew himself from his awareness of Jim, ignoring whatever he was saying, trying to block off the pain, but finding the very effort made it hurt worse. He lay motionless on his side, eyes open but unseeing, trying to shut down every impulse in his brain, and finally some semblance of quiet descended in his mind.

******

Kirk waited at the Vulcan’s bedside, his hope sinking with each shallow breath the Vulcan took. Spock’s breathing was getting softer and softer, until it was hardly audible. He tried looking for a pulse, but he couldn’t remember where a Vulcan pulse should be, or what a normal rate would be. He knew it would be no good listening for a heartbeat - none could be heard in a Vulcan.

Spock’s glazed eyes were growing more and more distant, reflecting back in on the Vulcan, seemingly seeing less and less. It looked to Kirk like a Vulcan trance, only more than a Vulcan trance, or perhaps less... He seemed even more vacant than that - as if there were no thoughts inside at all.

He wracked his brains for something to do to help. He was not used to sitting inactive. He could not imagine being a doctor like Bones, at the point where no more could be done and waiting was all that was left. He had thought of keeping the Vulcan cool with a damp cloth - but then he felt Spock’s temperature, and it had cooled from its normal high level to something lower than a human’s. He covered the Vulcan with another blanket, and just kept talking to him softly, hoping that in some way his voice would keep him connected with the real world.

******

Later - much later, he thought - Spock became aware of Kirk’s voice again, deeply worried.

‘Spock, please, can’t you try to speak to me?’ The next words sounded more like a personal thought spoken aloud. ‘God, for all I know you could be brain-dead. I don’t know what they did to you. Please, Spock, say something?’

The desperation in Kirk’s voice jerked Spock back to a conscious level, and all the pain and reality returned with a jolt. He suddenly realised how his scared his friend must be, as he lay there in a trance that the human didn’t understand.

‘I have been selfish,’ he said flatly.

‘Spock!’ Kirk almost shouted, and the Vulcan flinched at the noise. ‘Spock, God, I thought you were dying!’ he said more quietly.

‘I ask your forgiveness,’ Spock said.

‘Spock, for what?’

‘I’ve scared you, Jim. I am sorry for that. I had retreated deep into my mind. I didn’t think of how that would affect you.’

‘ All that matters is you’re all right,’ Kirk said firmly. ‘ _Are_ you all right?’

‘I am better,’ Spock said through the pain.

He let himself come a little further out of his trance. He saw he was back in his cell, looking at the rocky ceiling above his bed. He realised that tears were streaked down his face, but there were no Tyok to watch him and mock him as he fought the pain. But there was still Jim here. He forced himself to relax fully. The withdrawal had helped. The violent, pain filled impulses in his mind had subsided slowly, until he felt still.

Spock began to try to analyse the torture he had been through. That would help with dealing with it. But his mind blanked, patches of memory fading and reappearing at random. He tried to grasp onto certain facts, but it was all slipping away. He could only remember pain. He tried to roll onto his back, and his face became even more expressionless as he tried to control a tidal wave of pain that shot through his body.

‘Stay on your side, Spock,’ Kirk advised. ‘It’ll feel better like that.’

Spock nodded very carefully, trying not to move any of the muscles in his torn back. ‘It does hurt a little, Captain. How long has it been?’

‘I lost track of time, Spock. I was worried about you. But only a few hours, I think.’

‘They were torturing me, and then...’ He shivered involuntarily. Random points of evidence were surfacing as he became more aware of his body. The pain in his back and his hands, the taste of vomit and the lingering taste of a familiar, strong Vulcan spirit in his mouth. ‘I – must have passed out. What happened?’

‘Don’t you remember being brought back to Seyak?’

Spock shook his head. He tried to think, but it felt as if someone had thrust a dagger through his mind. Instead, he tried not to think, and that helped the memories float back into his consciousness.

‘Yes. I remember that now.’ His face paled, tightening with a sudden memory. ‘Jim - ’

‘Yes, Spock.’

‘Did he say he would invade my mind?’

‘He did. Spock, maybe it won’t be such a bad thing,’ he began. ‘He’ll find out – ’

The look on Spock’s face stopped him in his tracks.

‘Captain, what he proposes is rape to Vulcans,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Nothing less. I do not have the strength to stop him right now, neither mental nor physical. Vulcan minds are strong, but they are also vulnerable, once the barriers have been broken.’

Kirk pressed his lips together. ‘They’re stronger than me, Spock, and there are more of them. But I promise I’ll try to keep his hands from your face.’

‘Thank you, Jim.’ His face relaxed a little more with that promise. ‘There is no gain in thinking about the future. I remember - Did I faint in Seyak’s office, Captain?’

‘Yes, and they carried you back down here. What did those devils do to you, Spock?’

Spock swallowed. ‘An effective method of ancient Vulcan torture. An application of extreme heat... by an unpleasant method.’

‘What method?’

‘They – forced me to grip on white hot metal - for a considerable length of time. My hands - are extremely sensitive. There are certain nerves there that link directly into the brain. When those nerves are assaulted in such a way – ’ He took a deep breath, shuddering, not wanting to remember. ‘It is a way of attacking the mind directly. It affects the brain, and makes it difficult to think - to enforce mental discipline. Inflicts great agony. I will recover, but it is difficult to suppress the pain. I am trying hard. That is why I had to retreat so far.’ He closed his eyes for a second, and let a moment of concentration soothe away some of the pain. Then he refocused on his captain’s face. ‘My hands are burnt, Jim, and my back cut. That’s all. It’s not as bad as it seems. I’ll be all right now.’

Kirk eased Spock’s hands up gently. He carefully uncurled the tightly bent fingers and saw the blackened, burnt and blistered palms, the skin torn off where it had stuck to the bar.

‘Barbaric,’ Kirk muttered.

Spock’s eyebrow rose in a wonderfully normal gesture. ‘Your Earth was not without similar torture methods,’ he pointed out. ‘Need I mention trial by ordeal?’

‘Hmm,’ Kirk grunted. ‘Maybe so, but that’s not happened in a long time. Here, let me take a look…’

‘Please be careful,’ Spock told him as Kirk gently tried to ease his hands from the claw-like position they had assumed. ‘It is painful.’

‘I’m not surprised. McCoy should be treating those hands with surgery.’ He felt very gently over the backs of Spock’s swollen fingers, trying hard to avoid touching the burns. ‘I think some of your fingers are broken – your left hand.’

‘Someone stamped on them,’ he remembered. He winced, closing his eyes for a moment.

‘Your head aches?’

He nodded minutely. ‘No, don’t touch it,’ he protested quickly, as Kirk brushed the damp cloth over his forehead. ‘It will not help, Captain. I’ll be able to suppress the sensation soon, when I have more control,’ he said more calmly, but then said abruptly, ‘Captain, I suggest you move back.’

Kirk stared at him questioningly. His face had turned a pale shade of green. Spock swallowed deeply, as if trying unsuccessfully to suppress a reaction – but then he quickly thrust his head over the side of the bed. He was still for a moment, then retched violently.

Kirk jumped back quickly, waiting for the Vulcan to finish, then he picked his way carefully back over the floor. Spock lay panting miserably for a moment, and sweat broke out on his forehead, then he relaxed.

‘I’m sorry, Jim. I won’t do that again,’ he promised, his voice weak. ‘There’s only the nausea left now.’

‘Are you sure?’

Spock raised both eyebrows in a curiously human gesture. ‘I am quite sure my stomach is empty by now, sir.’

‘Were you sick before?’ Kirk asked in concern.

‘Once, after holding the bar. You must be very ashamed of me, Captain, for letting them do this to me. For the lack of restraint. I apologise.’

‘No!’ Kirk exclaimed. ‘God, Spock, I’m not ashamed of you. They hurt you so much. Hurt your mind. I’m angry - I’m furious that they could treat you so barbarously. Even if they do have some kind of legitimate grudge.’

Spock’s lips tightened. ‘The persecution they speak of is from ages past. Such things ended when we gave up our emotions for logic.’

‘Well, people can hold grudges for a long time. Family feuds can last hundreds of years,’ Kirk reminded him.

Perhaps Spock’s people did not openly persecute the Tyok any more, but he was certain that the sentiment still lingered, no matter how illogical. It was clear at least in Spock’s attitude. It did not, however, seem politic to point that out to his First Officer at this time.

‘Spock,’ he began with a cautious amount of curiosity. ‘The Vulcan government must know about the Tyok. Why didn’t they say anything to the Federation?’

‘The Tyok are hardly Vulcan now,’ Spock said as if that was an absolute given. ‘Not Vulcan as you know it. They have the same physiology, the same blood, but they are Tyok - just as Romulans are Romulan despite sharing many similarities.’ At Kirk’s expression of dissent he asked, ‘Captain, if your race was as passionate and aggressive as the Vulcans, and you had purged emotion so as to save your civilisation, lived in that way for hundreds of years, would you be eager to admit to outsiders that there may still be people so violent and emotional living on your planet? We did not know if any Tyok still existed. We assumed they had died out, and the governments were not eager to find out for sure. The Tyok do not bother the Vulcans, and the Vulcans do not come into contact with them. Maybe those in the remote villages know of them, but they do not speak of them to others.’

‘Like a guilty little secret,’ Kirk muttered to himself. He looked back at Spock. The Vulcan had obviously not quite caught what he had said, and he was glad of that. ‘I can understand that it might be easier to leave it as it is,’ he nodded. ‘What do they want now?’ he muttered, as the door opened again.

A single Tyok woman came in, holding a bowl and bandages. Kirk stood up as she beckoned him. She held out a warm bottle to him, and pointed at the small cradle in the corner.

‘For the baby?’ Kirk asked.

The woman said something in Vulcan, and Spock answered.

‘It’s milk, Captain,’ he translated. ‘T’Si should be getting hungry. They want her to be well treated, and have been tending to her while we were absent. They are concerned for our health.’

‘Could’ve fooled me,’ Kirk muttered, as he took the Vulcan baby from the cradle and began to feed it with all the awkwardness of one who had never fed a baby before.

The woman sat down by Spock’s bed, and untied a shawl from her head, revealing gracefully pointed, red-ochre ears that peeked through long black hair.

‘Are they really red, Spock?’ Kirk asked curiously in a low voice. ‘Or is it a dye?’

‘ This is their natural colour,’ Spock told him. ‘Have you never wondered, Captain, why my – why  _all_ Vulcans’ – flesh bears distinct signs of pinkness despite us having green blood? Why the more sensitive tissues of our lips, and about our eyes, is so similar in appearance to yours, which is coloured by your blood?’

Kirk shook his head, bewildered. ‘I guess – it seems natural to a human. I never thought of it.’

Spock nodded solemnly.

‘I imagine Dr McCoy knows – it is quite a basic thing, Captain. Your skin is coloured by melanin. Mine is coloured by a specific form of pheomelanin. My lips, my eyes, all bear stronger concentrations of it in order to protect those sensitive areas from the Vulcan sun. The Tyok originate in the hottest, most sun-struck areas of Vulcan – and so, like your planet’s Africans and Australian Aborigines, they show the strongest concentration of our version of melanin. Hence – ’

‘Red skin,’ Kirk nodded. ‘But – they live underground?’

Spock shook his head. ‘They have not always done so. I dare say they were driven underground by – ’

‘By the other Vulcans?’ Kirk supplied, and Spock nodded pensively.

‘ It may account for some of their emotional abnormalities,’ Spock suggested . ‘They cannot possibly receive the required amounts of Vitamin D. I have to take supplements merely for living under the low light levels of the  _Enterprise_ , and I have much paler skin.’

‘Spock, aren’t their – emotional abnormalities – just the normal state of a Vulcan without the kind of rigorous training you’ve received?’ Kirk asked awkwardly.

Spock hesitated, as if reluctant to admit that such wild emotion could be wholly natural to one of his species. Then one eyebrow raised slightly, and he nodded. ‘It – is possible,’ he nodded, regarding the woman sitting next to him as if he was examining a particularly interesting scientific specimen. ‘In the emotional time, the Tyok were persecuted for their appearance. It may be why they stayed separate from Vulcan development. They were thought to be extinct...’

He watched the woman as she picked out certain pots from the ones in her bowl, then she looked up at him, raising an eyebrow as she looked him over.

‘Would you speak your name?’ the woman asked in formal Vulcan.

‘I am Spock, son of Amanda of Earth, and Sarek of Vulcan,’ Spock replied just as formally, with no hint in his polite tone of what he had just been speaking about. ‘My companion is Kirk, son of Winona and George, of Earth. I apologise for the state I made of the floor, Ms - ’

‘T’Shuan, daughter of T’Lia and Starn of Vulcan. And my title is Kvesh, Spock, son of Amanda. I am a healer.’ She dropped the formal language now the introductions were over. ‘I will send someone to clean the floor, but you will let me see your hands now.’

Spock drew his hands away from her, masking his mental reaction from his face. ‘I would prefer that you did not touch them.’

‘You will let me see them, or I will call a guard to make you let me,’ a steely tone entering her voice. ‘The guards are not as gentle as I will be.’

The Vulcan seemed to consider for a second, and then held out his hands again. She carefully rubbed a pale red ointment into Spock’s palms and fingers, then covered them with bandage.

‘The pain will be gone in some hours, and your mind will be soothed. The bones will heal soon. But you will use your hands as little as possible - preferably not at all. Now your back.’

Spock turned onto his side without speaking, and the woman covered his sore, whipped back with another salve, then put a small square of material on the bed.

‘Lie on it,’ she ordered. ‘Do not move for half an hour. Then it will begin to heal.’ She put more cream on his bruised face and poured some liquid into a spoon. ‘Drink this now. It will make you feel much better. It is revitalising, and will settle your stomach. We will bring food when you are more recovered. You must try to sleep.’

Spock swallowed the liquid obediently, then the woman covered him gently with a blanket and stood back.

‘I thank you, Kvesh T’Shuan,’ Spock said gravely. ‘Live long and prosper,’ he added, as she turned to leave.

‘I will not, if your people persist with their attacks,’ she said, whipping around again, her dark eyes flashing angrily. ‘How can you lie there and give me greeting as if you have done no harm? As if you are innocent of these atrocities, as if you have not murdered in cold blood? I do not understand why you should be so cruel. You do not look cruel. White Vulcans are supposed to live for peace and logic.’

Spock flinched at her outburst, as his head began to pound with renewed vigour.

‘I have attacked no one,’ he corrected her. ‘Neither have my people.’

‘You burnt the village of Ly’Gotja.’

‘My cousin dwelt in that village. I would not destroy it. It would be illogical. I have no reason to do such a thing.’

‘You are saying that you and the Earthman did not commit the crime?’ she asked incredulously. ‘You were found in the building, stealing the bodies.’

‘I was seeking out survivors,’ Spock corrected her severely. ‘That is where I came upon the child. I killed no one. Kvesh T’Shuan, do you speak Standard? My captain does not understand you.’

‘A little,’ the Tyok healer said slowly, in English. ‘We do not much learn alien tongues. Only what is useful.’

‘Captain Kirk, I introduce Kvesh T’Shuan,’ Spock said solemnly.

‘Kvesh?’ Kirk repeated.

‘You would title her Doctor - although healer is a more appropriate term.’

‘I am very pleased to meet you Kvesh T’Shuan,’ Kirk said politely, managing to pronounce the title almost correctly.

‘It would be politeness to say the same to you, Char Kirk,’ T’Shaun nodded. ‘But I am not sure I can yet.’

‘This woman says her people did not burn Ly’Gotja,’ Spock told the captain. ‘But they believe we did, which is why they treat us so.’

‘Can’t you convince them that we didn’t?’ Kirk asked.

Spock shook his head. ‘I do not know. Our obvious ignorance of the device they showed us may be in our favour.’

‘Yes.’ Kirk glanced down at his hot, red, aching hand. ‘God, Spock. It hurt so much on just my hand. Imagine being killed by it.’

‘Indeed. It would be excruciatingly painful. Now I understand why the family’s expressions were so full of terror.’

‘Your hand,’ T’Shuan said to Kirk in a tone that wouldn’t tolerate refusal. She suddenly reminded Kirk of McCoy, and he smiled, holding out his hand obediently to her.

‘Our people were killed by it,’ said T’Shuan, beginning to soak clean bandages in a pale green liquid. ‘Hundreds of our people, died in agony.’

‘I thought you were a small tribe?’ Kirk asked, as the woman wrapped the soaked bandage around his hand. He was surprised at how quickly the pain lessened.

The woman looked bewildered, and Spock translated.

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘We have grown. First there were few, nearing extinction. We were persecuted for many years by the white Vulcans. There were battles within the tribes, too. Men were fighting, dying, killing each other.’

‘Like the past of my race,’ Spock remembered. ‘But our solutions were somewhat stricter than yours must have been.’

‘There were ordered plans made. The right of the husband to take the life of one of his family he disliked was abolished. Fighting inside clans was punished by death, until fights were only of family honour, between clans. Women bore many young, men took many wives. We are a quiet people now. We do no one harm. Then devil’s lights came above, in the sky. Sometimes day, sometimes night. Villages around began to burn. Most people are forbidden to walk above, now, because of the danger. Our people were caught in the effect. Once the beam came down to higher levels of the caves and touched people there. Some are alive, but with horrible shape. Some dying. Most touched are dead. I have tried, for long times, but all cannot be saved. It is bad,’ she finished with a sigh.

Kirk suddenly noticed how worn and tired the woman looked, and he imagined her sitting up night after night, trying to relieve the pain of patients that she hadn’t a hope of really helping.

‘Captain. It is only villages that have been destroyed so far,’ Spock said meaningfully. ‘But if a city were to be touched by the strange effect - ’

‘I take your point. Look, will you translate for me, Spock?’

‘Certainly, sir.’

‘Tell her who we are. Where we’re from. Tell her we want to help, but we need our communicators, and we need their trust.’

‘It is difficult for me to trust a Tyok,’ Spock said, with a hint of emotion in his voice.

‘Put your differences aside, Spock,’ Kirk urged him. ‘You’re indulging in the bigotry that your logic was supposed to quell. They haven’t done anything. They didn’t destroy that village and they didn’t kill your cousin.’

‘I know,’ Spock said heavily. ‘Old habits die hard, as you humans would say, but I will – lay down the grudge.’

‘Then tell her what I wanted you to.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Spock relayed the message quickly, and the woman spoke back. ‘She says we must crave audience with the Sha’Vir,’ he said with distaste. ‘Then he may listen. I must ask forgiveness for my rudeness.’

‘Not quite Vulcan style?’ Kirk asked with a grimace.

‘If it will aid our release, I must do it,’ Spock said flatly. ‘If anything, we should get T’Si to a safer environment,’ he said, his eyes tracking towards the baby in Kirk’s arms. ‘She is only two months old.’

‘Mr Spock,’ Kirk teased. ‘I hope you’re not forming an emotional attachment to that child?’

‘Sir!’ Spock said in indignation. ‘I am Vulcan.’

‘I see.’ Kirk turned to the woman, who was trying to understand what they were saying. ‘Please, go to the Sha’Vir,’ he said clearly. ‘Tell him we have to speak to him. It is very important.’

The woman looked deep into Kirk’s hazel eyes, then nodded. ‘I go. I will speak to him. You wait .’

‘Do we have a choice?’

‘No.’

She turned and left the room, carrying her bowl of salves with her.

‘Do you think we’ll get to see him?’ Kirk asked Spock.

‘She is a healer, Captain, and healers are of very high worth in Vulcan society.’

‘You mean they carry a lot of clout? But do you think he’ll listen to her? She is a woman.’

‘Captain, she would not be a healer if she were not a woman,’ Spock said gravely. ‘Males are not entrusted to such a job in the Tyok laws.’

‘This place seemed so male dominated,’ Kirk began.

‘The menial jobs - such as cleaning, being a guard or a soldier - they are left to the males. The females will be in chambers, instructing the children, crafting instruments or preparing herbs for the healers.’

‘But the Sha’Vir - ?’

‘The Sha’Vir is the one exception. But – often the Sha’Vir is the consort of the tribe healer. He becomes the leader when she picks him to become her mate.’

‘I see,’ Kirk said, raising both his eyebrows. ‘Well, I - ’ He broke off as the door opened, and he was beckoned by a guard. ‘Well, I guess visiting time’s over,’ he shrugged, placing the baby carefully in Spock’s arms.

He followed the guard, and was put back in the next door cell. Both doors were locked securely. Spock looked down at the baby in his arms, and allowed himself a brief smile - a Vulcan smile, hardly noticeable to more emotional beings.

‘So, it is you and I again, girl-child,’ he murmured. ‘I trust you are not too disturbed by the things you have seen.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You witnessed the horrific murder of your family. Your mother died to save your life. She will be remembered well.’

T’Si smiled back at him, and laughed while she grabbed for his finger, completely unconscious of his meaning. Spock sat up a little, and rested the baby on his chest.

‘I cannot let you hold my finger,’ he said apologetically. ‘But I can amuse you.’

Then Spock did something he had never done before, and which doubtless he would never do again. He twisted his features, and made a funny face. The baby laughed with joy, and clutched at his nose. Spock tactfully extracted his nose from the grasp, and let the child suck at the tip of a finger that wasn’t so badly burnt.

‘I think that is enough of this emotionalism for today,’ he decided. ‘Or you will grow up believing it is good manners to smile. You must let me sleep.’

‘Talking to that baby again?’ came Kirk’s voice from next door.

Spock glanced towards the wall. ‘Yes, sir. She understands some of it, mostly through tones of voice.’

The Vulcan looked up sharply as part of the seemingly solid wall slid back to reveal a barred window. Through it, he saw a glimpse of Kirk’s cell, mirroring his own.

‘We feel it safer to separate you,’ Seyak said from outside the door. ‘But we do have some compassion. If what my consort T’Shuan says is true, you are not dangerous.’

Windows were opened in the cell doors, and both Kirk and Spock saw the Tyok leader standing outside. Then Spock’s door opened. Seyak waited while a Vulcan man came in with a mop and bucket, and cleaned the floor, then the Sha’Vir walked in.

‘I was informed you have something to say to me.’

Spock nodded, his face expressionless and his eyes unreadable.

‘I wish you to forgive me. I am told I was rude.’

‘I do not hear sincerity in your request,’ Seyak said sternly.

Spock’s gaze dropped momentarily. ‘I do not pretend to like the Tyok.’

Seyak exhaled in annoyance, shaking his head. ‘We are no different to yourself. We can act as logically as you when we wish to – but we rarely wish to. The only other difference is the colour of our skins, and I do not think you are a racist.’

‘It is illogical,’ Spock said in a low voice, ‘but the dislike is ingrained in me. Even with emotional control it has been in my people since the times of reformation. I will try to put the differences aside for this purpose.’

‘I am told it is the same purpose,’ Seyak said.

‘It is.’ Spock lowered his eyes for a moment. ‘I do apologise for my rudeness,’ he said, more sincerely this time.

‘And I regret your rather brutal punishment,’ Seyak nodded, although his voice was still tempered with the haughty tone of a leader. ‘These times have hardened our hearts. Our people are not usually so vicious.’

Kirk’s face appeared at the barred window. He looked impatient of the social niceties.

‘Seyak,’ he said without preamble. ‘We need to speak to you. It’s very important.’

Seyak turned to him with unhurried arrogance. ‘What is it you have to say, human?’

‘Look,’ Kirk said firmly. ‘We thought it was you who destroyed that village. You think it was us. Obviously we’re both wrong.’

‘Obviously?’ Seyak asked, his eyebrow rising much as Spock’s did. ‘I know the people of Ly’Gotja. You are not from that village, nor are you from any village around here. You say you did not cause the destruction? You may fool she who is my wife, but I am not easily taken in.’

‘Seyak,’ Spock said, turning his head to fix his gaze intently on the Tyok. ‘I am a Vulcan. I do not lie. We came only to investigate the destruction in the village. We have never seen the device you showed us, and are as horrified by the effects as you. It is probable that my cousin was killed by it.’

A look of interest appeared on Seyak’s face. ‘What is this person’s name?’ he asked. ‘We rescued some of the villagers before you arrived, and are tending to them here.’

‘Her name was T’Syan,’ Spock said. ‘If she is alive, she will tell you I am no murderer.’

‘We will check. Then we will discuss the validity of your claim.’

‘Thank you,’ Spock said politely.

‘We would like at least our communicators back,’ Kirk said as Seyak turned to leave.

Seyak raised an eyebrow. ‘And have yourselves transported out of this place? No. Not until we are certain you are speaking the truth.’


	5. Chapter 5

Kirk eyes roamed over the rock-hewn ceiling restlessly, following tool marks and natural striations in the sandy rock. He had been lying on his bed for what seemed to be an interminable length of time, waiting for Seyak to return. Spock, at least, had slipped into a calm, natural sleep, and he could only hope that the rest would help him to heal.

He stopped studying the ceiling abruptly as he heard footsteps outside. He lifted his head off his pillow, turning towards the window in the door as the figure of Seyak passed outside.

‘Seyak,’ he said grumpily. ‘You took your time.’ He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The man ignored him, and went to Spock’s door.

‘He’s asleep,’ Kirk said, as the Vulcan looked into the cell. ‘All the torture tired him out,’ he added rather bitterly.

‘That I can see for myself,’ Seyak said with no sign of guilt. He clapped his hands loudly. ‘Wake up, white-Vulcan.’

‘His name’s Spock,’ Kirk reminded him.

‘I am aware of that fact,’ Seyak said coldly.

Spock sat up slowly, moving his sore back with caution. He found the headache was a little better, and his mind was clear enough to quell the pain more successfully now.

‘Sha’Vir,’ he said, turning his eyes toward the door. ‘Have you found T’Syan?’

The man beckoned a tall Vulcan woman to the window, and she looked through with stony eyes.

‘It is my blood-cousin,’ she said unemotionally. ‘His name is Spock. A Starfleet officer.’

Kirk looked out through his own door, studying the woman that was Spock’s cousin. She was tall and slim, like all Vulcans, with thick brown hair immaculately styled, and eyes the same shade as Spock’s. Her face was almost stunningly handsome, but unemotional and cold as any he had ever seen. He wondered why the women of Vulcan always managed to look so much colder than the men. He wasn’t sure, but the maxim always seemed to run true.

She wore a short dress of rich, dark red material, that accentuated her figure perfectly. It would have been beautiful, but for the fact it was scorched, and marked with soot and burns, as if she had only just managed to escape from the fires, or had helped to search for any of the living afterwards.

Spock got up from his bed and walked shakily to the door, holding himself erect with difficulty, and attempting to straighten his tattered top with his bandaged hands.

‘T’Syan,’ he said in a level voice. ‘I have not seen you for some years. You are well?’

One eyebrow lifted icily, and she spoke in a perfectly clear voice that seemed more cutting for its lack of emotion.

‘My home has been destroyed - my husband, his parents, my children, all killed. And you ask if I am well?’

‘He says he would not kill,’ Seyak interrupted, looking from her to Spock. ‘Do you confirm that?’

T’Syan studied Spock closely. ‘I do not believe that Spock would kill. However - I am not so sure that his Starfleet would not, and he obeys the orders from his Starfleet. He is loyal to his Starfleet. Maybe more loyal to them than to his own people.’

‘T’Syan,’ Spock said, looking directly at her. ‘The Federation works for good. You know I would not participate in such experiments on my home planet, nor on any other planet. I would not betray my people. I value life as highly as any other Vulcan, and so does Starfleet.’

‘You know my opinion of Starfleet,’ she replied. ‘I agree with your father. I am sorry, Spock, but I cannot tell the Sha’Vir that you had nothing to do with the destruction. Starfleet is run by humans, you are half human. There are incidents in abundance in Earth’s history which only confirm human barbarity.’

‘Humans have changed, just as Vulcans did,’ Spock insisted.

Her eyebrow rose icily. ‘I have not been shown convincing evidence to that effect. Earth still has its criminals. There is no reason why the people of the Federation should be any different.’

Kirk opened his mouth to speak, then decided this was best left to Spock. His first officer glanced at him, then turned back to his cousin, spreading his hands wide.

‘T’Syan. I will open my mind willingly to you - to the Sha’Vir also, if it pleases. I will show you that neither I nor my captain have any part in these happenings. We are on your side.’

‘It pleases me,’ Seyak nodded decisively. ‘We will link together. Keep your hands by your sides and go back to lie on your bed.’

Spock looked from one to the other, then nodded, and went back to his bed. Seyak tied his wrists down with leather straps, then Spock saw a hand come on either side of his face - the small white one, and the larger red one. He closed his eyes, shutting himself off from the world and all its distractions, and opened his mind.

The red fingers pressured slightly, and disordered, illogical and painful thoughts ran into Spock’s mind. Then the white hand made contact, and the cool, refreshing, logical thinking acted like a balm, levelling the sensation to something like contacting a human. Spock made no attempt to speak to the Vulcans, but let them probe his thoughts freely, keeping back the urge to shut them off from the terrible invasion of privacy. The two were at least sensitive in their searching, immediately rejecting anything too personal. The logical hand withdrew, then the illogical one followed, and T’Syan shook Spock back to awareness.

‘It is done,’ she said simply, as she untied Spock’s hands. ‘I am satisfied that you and Kirk were not aware of the happenings here until you came two days ago. You are losing track of time, cousin Spock. A human failing. It has been two days.’ She turned to the cradle by the wall. ‘What is this?’

Spock came to stand behind her. ‘A baby - a girl-child, found among the bodies of her family, in the ruins of your village.’

‘I see.’ The woman bent, but Spock stopped her with a touch to her arm.

‘She stays here. I am able to take care of her.’

T’Syan looked sharply at Spock, then nodded. ‘Of course.’ She stepped around to his back, and lifted a torn, blood-stained flap of shirt. ‘You were beaten,’ she said, turning an accusing look on Seyak.

‘I do what I wish with my prisoners,’ Seyak answered. ‘He insulted me. He would not kneel for me.’

‘You would not expect him to kneel for you,’ T’Syan reminded him. ‘He is not of your clan.’

‘I expect my prisoners to obey my demands,’ the Sha’Vir snapped. ‘I will beat him again if I deem it necessary, for as long as necessary, and as hard as necessary.’

‘You also take pride in pleasing your guests,’ T’Syan said softly. ‘Do you not still have the honour of all Vulcans?’

‘We have the honour, but we are not afraid to use a weapon against those who are our enemies.’

‘You sound like you’d get on well with the Romulans,’ Kirk observed through the bars of his window.

‘The Rihannsu would kill us the moment they saw the colour of our skin,’ Seyak said bitterly. ‘Why do you think there are no Tyok-Rihannsu? Because a red hand was not allowed to touch the shining skins of their ships, or even help in the building.’

‘And so you take out your grudge against the entire white Vulcan and Rihannsu populations by beating my cousin,’ T’Syan said, examining Spock’s lacerated back. ‘It is not logical. These will heal,’ the woman told Spock. ‘There will be no scars. And your hands?’

‘Kui-tq-ellah torture,’ Spock said distantly. ‘I always doubted its effectiveness, but it is a serviceable method.’

‘I am sure it is, especially on a half-Vulcan. Seyak, he must be given fresh clothes, and be fed with the food you give your guests. I would rather not see my cousin eating only dry bread. I think it is best to keep them separated at least at night, with no visual or audio contact, but they should be allowed to speak at the day time. A little freedom would do no harm, either, of a few hours each day. You know that a Vulcan has to occupy himself with something, and I’m sure it is the same for humans. But do not give them opportunity to scheme together, or they will escape. Allow Spock private time to meditate. Let the child stay with him. He has obviously formed an emotional attachment to it, and feels the need to protect it,’ she said, eyeing the baby coldly. She sniffed the air with disgust. ‘Send a woman at intervals to help him to change it and feed it, while his hands are unusable. His care will at least save your people the trouble of taking care of it for the majority of the time.’

‘I will consider your requests,’ decided the Sha’Vir. ‘They are reasonable.’

‘Naturally.’

Seyak turned to Spock. ‘We will treat you kindly,’ he began, ‘as long as you treat us with respect. You. Kirk. You will not touch any of our womenfolk. You may speak to them, and accept food from them, but you will not make contact with them. Spock, neither may you touch our womenfolk, or speak to them in whispers. You will sire no half-colour children.’

‘Seyak, I have no interest in siring any Tyok children,’ Spock promised.

‘You are a male. It is both logical and natural for you to sire many children. Any child you sire will be killed, and any woman you touch dishonoured.’

‘I will speak in whispers to none of your women,’ Spock promised. He glanced at Captain Kirk. ‘And neither will Kirk.’

The Sha’Vir nodded with satisfaction. T’Syan turned and left the room, followed by Seyak. Kirk tapped at his window bars, catching Spock’s attention.

‘To speak in whispers means to mate,’ Spock told the captain quietly. ‘I spoke for you because I was not sure you understood. He did not speak of it, but the punishment you would take would not be pleasant. You would father no children in your lifetime.’

‘I see. I’m glad you don’t take after your cousin, Spock,’ he said with half a smile. ‘It doesn’t look as if blood is thicker than water, after all.’

‘Captain, I am quite certain that blood is – ’ Spock began.

‘Never mind, Spock,’ Kirk sighed. ‘She didn’t seem too pleased to see you.’

‘She had just seen her whole family die, her home incinerated,’ Spock said reasonably.

‘Even so - ’ Kirk shrugged.

‘She does not like Starfleet, nor the fact that I am half human. She regards me as a weakness in our family.’

‘Hmm,’ Kirk said, declining to comment. For all of Vulcan’s modernity, the further he delved below the surface the more the attitudes of its people troubled him. ‘Well, we’re not much closer to finding out what’s been going on,’ he said, partly to change the subject away from T’Syan’s bigotry.

‘We at least have gained a little of their trust. Patience is essential, Captain. We must try to remember that.’

The window snapped shut on Kirk’s reply, so Spock shrugged, checked in the cradle, then returned to his bed as the lights went out.

******

Kirk stepped to the front of Spock’s cell, and looked out. The door was open, the corridor empty for a few yards, but he could see stern guards standing warily a little way up, obviously there to keep them from going anywhere.

He turned back again. Spock was sitting on his bed, gently holding T’Si with his bandaged hands while she sucked at a bottle of milk. Spock’s brown eyes were fixed on the child’s face, looking strangely soft, oblivious to everything else. The captain smiled, then stopped that. It wouldn’t really do to get too attached to the baby. Not while he was captain of the  _Enterprise_ . Spock set the bottle down when the child turned away from it, and looked at Kirk.

‘Sir?’

‘Nothing. I was just watching.’

‘Ah.’ Kirk watched curiously as Spock put his hand lightly on the baby’s face, and closed his eyes.

‘What happens when you do that?’ he asked.

Spock opened his eyes again. ‘It is a very light form of mind meld. A way of contacting a child that is too young to speak. She has memories, and feelings. I can tell her things. She will trust someone whose thoughts have touched hers.’

‘I see... Spock!’ Kirk slapped his thigh in triumph. ‘Spock, she has memories!’

‘Yes, sir. That is what I said.’

‘She’ll remember what happened. Can you ask her?’

Spock looked doubtful. ‘I can try, but I am not sure if it would be wise. She is very young.’

‘Spock, if there’s just a chance she can tell us - it could save hundreds of lives.’

‘It could damage her emotionally, to remember something as traumatic as what must have happened. I must be prudent in my searching.’

Spock sat the baby up against his chest, and placed both bandaged hands over her face, positioning his exposed fingertips carefully. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. They looked blank for a moment, staring into the distance, then he began to speak.

‘T’kl sh’can thg’n na-oon gi - ’

‘Spock, English,’ Kirk said clearly, remembering this was a Vulcan mind contacting another mind that had probably never heard the English language. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘English,’ Spock repeated vaguely. ‘Yes. I have reached - memories, Captain. Deep memories. Two months of life. T’Ganu. Mother. Deep in the thoughts. Always there in the thoughts. Sandik. Father. Brother and sister, fainter. Mother. Kindness, softness. The warmth of her touch, her arms, the warmth and comfort of the feeding. Songs. Gentle lullabies, send me to sleep. Always there, always touching, always holding. Such a gentle touch.’

‘Spock, what about the fire? The attack?’

‘The time when the sky was dark. The faint smell of smoke, somewhere else. Hungry. Time to feed. Warmth - then...’

‘Spock,’ Kirk prompted him.

‘Fear. Such fear. Coldness. Hurry. Fire coming. Lights in the sky. The touch, the ending. Closer. She held me. Fear in the holding. Fear for the ending. All. All I knew, all I loved, all fear. The cries, and coldness. Dark. Smothering dark. She tried to protect me. I heard, felt, life in her, her heart beating, then, slowly, spread of green wetness, the slowing of the life. Stopped.’ Spock blinked, and tears began to run down his cheeks. ‘I wanted her touch, her warmth. She was cold, and darkness all around. She wouldn’t hear me. Wouldn’t give me the holding. Heat, and fear. Smell of burning. Cold again. Loneliness. I wanted her touch. She wouldn’t listen, she wouldn’t move. She was cold. Then, another, the man, the Spock. Held me. It was touch, not her touch. I wanted her touch. I want her touch. Her touch. The warmth. I want the warmth. Her warmth – ’

Spock’s hands slipped off the baby’s face, and he fell back onto his pillow. He pressed his palms to his face, and shook.

‘I want her warmth,’ he whispered. ‘She’s cold, Jim. I want her warmth.’

‘Spock.’ Kirk prised the hands from the Vulcan’s face. ‘Spock, break it. You haven’t broken the link.’

The face glistened with tears, and his voice became desperate. ‘She’s cold. No moving. No breathing. Loneliness. Please, make her warm. Make her move.’

‘Spock, come out of it!’

Kirk raised a hand, and slapped the Vulcan’s face hard. Spock blinked, and gasped, and the baby began to scream. An actual flush of blood came to her cheek, as if she had been slapped. Spock looked up at the captain.

‘Jim? I’m sorry, Captain.’

‘Are you out of it now?’

‘The link is completely severed,’ he said, still sounding dazed. ‘But - she’s lonely, Jim. She doesn’t understand that you can’t make a body breathe again. She wants her mother.’

‘I know. I heard.’

Spock picked up the baby and held her to him tightly. She wasn’t crying aloud now, but her face was wet with tears like his. Spock closed his eyes and rested his head into the pillow again. Kirk waited until his breathing became the slow and regular sound of sleep, then went quietly back into his own room.

******

Kirk wandered up towards an entrance to the upper ground, but was cut off by two strong guards who stepped into his way like closing doors. He sighed, and turned back down the tunnel, joining Spock where the cave widened out into a small room.

‘Some freedom,’ he said sarcastically. ‘We’re not even allowed near the doors to the surface. I’d just like some fresh air, you know. The air’s thin enough as it is…’

‘Are you sure that is all you want? We are still in captivity,’ Spock pointed out, leaning back and resting against a solid table made of dark, ancient wood. Constantly carrying a baby was surprisingly tiring.

‘That’s made painfully obvious,’ Kirk agreed, glancing around at a red Vulcan who hovered at discreet, but still threatening distance. The captain tugged at the tough leather bands sewn around his wrists, bending and straightening the joining strip so it cracked loudly. ‘Could you break these, Spock, if you needed to?’

Spock looked down to examine the leather on his wrists. ‘I would not wish to, with my hands as they are – unless the need was urgent. If we did, we are liable to be punished, and we would only gain new fetters. Anyway, there is still our shadow.’ Spock turned to regard the Tyok guard emotionlessly. ‘He listens to whatever we say. T’Syan’s requests were carried out, and we have no opportunity to discuss escape without it being reported to Seyak.’

‘Well, at least our feet are free,’ the captain reasoned. ‘And we’re allowed to wander around. What is that row, Spock?’

Spock turned his ear towards a distant noise of shouting and threats. He nodded knowingly, and Kirk saw the ghost of a smile play around his lips.

‘I think you will be interested, Captain. If you would follow me?’

Spock began to walk down the passage, deeper into the underground catacombs. He still walked stiffly, keeping his shoulders hunched forward to ease his sore and swollen back. Kirk glanced at the guard, then followed. As they rounded a corner the dim light of the passage was replaced by blazing torches, and one very angry human being, being held at the end of a long table.

‘Bones!’ Kirk exclaimed.

‘Jim!’ Dr Leonard ‘Bones’ McCoy tried to wrench away from the hands holding him, but they pulled him back. ‘Jim, will you tell these people to leave go of my top?’

‘Sure,’ the captain agreed slowly. His eyes fell on another, red shirted officer, who stood a little more calmly in the background. ‘And who is this?’

‘Lieutenant Dempster, sir,’ the man replied smartly. ‘Security, sir.’

‘And he didn’t do such a damn great job of it, either,’ McCoy said grumpily.

Seyak appeared from behind a blazing torch, with T’Syan at his side. ‘You know this man, Kirk?’

‘Dr McCoy,’ he nodded. ‘He’s one of my people.’

Seyak nodded. ‘That name was in the white Vulcan’s mind. He is no threat. Release them,’ he snapped to the guards.

McCoy pulled away angrily as they let go of him, and went to Kirk. ‘Jim, what the devil’s going on here? What is this place?’

‘Bones, what are you doing here?’

‘Looking for you. I got worried when you didn’t check in.’

‘Well, you’ve found us,’ he shrugged. ‘Pity it wasn’t with a few armed guards.’

‘You’re prisoners?’ McCoy asked, looking at Kirk’s tied hands.

‘Sort of. We’re not allowed out and we’re locked up most of the day.’

‘That sounds a lot like being a prisoner to me. You didn’t come back from your assignment here, so I guessed Spock’d got you into some kind of trouble.’ The Vulcan ignored the accusation, and McCoy scowled at him. ‘We’re were looking through the ruins, and this is where it got us. Jim, are these people Vulcan? Is that red - ’

‘Perfectly natural,’ Spock said coolly, stepping forward. ‘They are Vulcan.’

‘Spock, do you know I’m actually pleased to see you?’ the doctor smiled.

‘Likewise,’ Spock replied, without conviction.

‘Have you been in a fight?’ he asked curiously, looking at the Vulcan’s face.

‘ I have been the  _subject_ of a fight, Doctor,’ Spock said impassively.

‘I – see. And what’s this?’ McCoy noticed the bundle Spock that held for the first time. ‘Don’t tell us you’re a proud father, Spock?’

Spock retreated a little. ‘Of course not. Don’t be absurd, Doctor.’

‘I’m not being absurd. You’re quite popular on the ship, Spock - God knows why.’ McCoy went to him and tweaked open the blankets, inspecting the sleeping baby. ‘It’s definitely Vulcan.’

‘She,’ Spock corrected him.

‘Spock rescued her from the ruins,’ Kirk explained.

The doctor’s face lit up enthusiastically. ‘You old softy,’ he began, grinning widely. ‘There’s hope for you yet, Spock.’

‘Maybe you should take care of her, as you are the doctor,’ Spock suggested immediately, suppressing the reluctance in his voice.

‘Uh uh.’ McCoy shook his head. ‘I’m no nanny. She’s your responsibility, Spock. And you couldn’t help a baby melting your ice cold heart, could you?’

Spock quickly handed the baby to Kirk, but McCoy could see his hands itching to take her back, and the anxious look in his eyes. The Vulcan noticed McCoy’s amusement, and went to clasp his hands behind his back. He pulled at the leather in a moment of frustration, then turned to Seyak, holding out his wrists.

‘Sha’Vir, these bonds are hardly necessary,’ he protested. ‘You have a guard on us, a guard on every exit, and guards along the corridors. I plead for you to release our hands.’

‘Plead?’ McCoy asked Kirk quietly, as T’Si was passed into his arms.

‘Humbleness works with these guys,’ Kirk nodded. ‘They’re not your run of the mill Vulcans.’

‘That I can see. They seem almighty emotional, for Vulcans.’

‘They are,’ Kirk told him, in a low voice.

T’Syan motioned with her hand for them to be quiet. ‘It is reasonable to remove the bonds,’ the Vulcan woman agreed with Spock, giving the Sha’Vir a hard look. ‘They cannot escape. They are watched at all times, by armed guards.’

‘True.’ Seyak took a sharp knife from one of the guards, and cut the leather straps. Spock flexed his wrists, while Kirk’s hands were cut free.

‘Trust you to get yourself hurt,’ McCoy complained, noticing the bandages on Spock’s hands. ‘What is it this time?’

‘Only slight burns, almost healed. Broken fingers on the left.’

‘A warning to you,’ the Sha’Vir said grimly, exposing one of Spock’s palms, then lifting the top slightly to show his back. ‘This is what happens when a captive does not obey. Next time he will have no hands to be burnt.’

‘Slight burns,’ the doctor muttered sarcastically, examining the Vulcan’s hands critically. ‘So slight they look like they need skin grafts and therapy to get them moveable again. Your back needs treatment on the ship, too.’

‘Unfortunately, that is not an option right now.’

‘What happened to you, anyway, Spock? Did these people do this?’

‘I was whipped,’ Spock explained, not without a tinge of resentment. ‘And forced to hold white hot iron.’

‘But there will be no more torture,’ T’Syan said firmly, stepping between Spock and Seyak. ‘And you must not touch Spock so casually, Seyak. He is a white Vulcan, even if tainted with human blood. He is not Tyok. We tolerate your illogical mannerisms. Allow him his personal space.’

‘I will allow it,’ Seyak said with a degree of reluctance.

‘Are you all right, Jim?’ McCoy asked, noticing that the captain limped a little.

‘I’ve gathered a few bruises. Nothing else, Bones.’

‘Such wounds as aggressive species always manage to muster,’ T’Syan said in an undertone.

McCoy eyes turned to the Vulcan woman. With her pale skin and modern clothing she was an oddity amongst the Tyok men. He bowed very slightly from the hips, and said,

‘Good afternoon, ma’am. Dr Leonard McCoy, at your service.’

‘Forgive me.’ T’Syan turned to McCoy and Lieutenant Dempster. ‘I have been impolite. I lived in the village that has been destroyed. I am T’Syan.’

‘My cousin,’ Spock said tonelessly.

‘ Pleased to meet you, ma’am,’ McCoy said politely, bowing his head slightly. ‘You’re  _Spock’s_ cousin?’

‘Correct. My mother’s brother is Spock’s father,’ she explained, as if she were wishing her mother had never had a brother. ‘Seyak, as this man is a doctor, I suggest you set him to tending your injured people. We have much to discuss with Kirk and Spock.’

‘Spock.’ McCoy touched the Vulcan’s elbow with a free hand, while gently jogging the crying T’Si. ‘Your baby needs feeding.’

‘I know,’ Spock replied coldly, taking T’Si and seating himself at a chair halfway along the long table. A flash of pain crossed his face as he leant back, but he suppressed it, and turned his attention to T’Si. The baby promptly stopped crying, and Spock spoke quickly to a Tyok man. He hurried away down another passage. ‘He is fetching the food, Dr McCoy. I suggest you confine your concern to your patients.’

‘By God, Spock, you’re almost good with that child!’ McCoy said, half in jest, half with true surprise. ‘Didn’t know you Vulcans had it in you!’

‘Doctor, how do you suppose Vulcans could ever survive as a race if no member of our species had any natural proclivity with infants of our own kind?’ Spock asked acidly.

‘Well, you’re a natural. Born for it.’ The doctor grinned. ‘But I think her diaper needs changing, Spock. I hope you know how?’

Spock didn’t deign to answer. McCoy bobbed up and down on his toes with mock frustration, but the Vulcan ignored him.

‘Go on, Bones,’ Kirk prompted him. ‘Go treat your patients.’

McCoy glanced at Spock. ‘He should be my first. I want to have a look at those hands.’

‘They’ve been treating him,’ the captain promised. ‘And you have worse patients elsewhere.’

‘Spock is the worst patient anyone could wish for,’ McCoy said. ‘Even so - ’

But a Tyok guard was already tugging at his arm. McCoy looked at the Vulcan unhappily, concern on his face. Then he remembered some of the bodies he’d seen in that village. He turned away, in a hurry now, and he and the security guard were led away down the passage.

The Sha’Vir sat down at the head of the table, and clasped his hands in front of him. ‘So. We talk.’

Kirk took a chair, and turned to him. ‘Seyak, do you know how many villages have been destroyed by these fires?’

‘We know of five in this area.’

‘Fifteen,’ Spock said promptly. ‘Fifteen villages and hamlets, all burnt to the ground. Ly’Gotja was the only one known to have any survivors. You may know different. But in each village, the bodies were strewn in the streets and houses, as if no one had a chance to run. Every corpse was burnt beyond recognition. This has been going on for seven months; a village seems to be attacked at each half-month.’

‘And nothing has been done to stop these happenings?’ Seyak asked incredulously.

‘The villages were all very remote,’ Kirk protested. ‘We didn’t even know until recently.’

‘This is true,’ Spock agreed. ‘The inhabitants of this area are largely isolationist. They very rarely strayed from their territory. They had no visitors, and very little contact with the rest of Vulcan. The destroyed villages were first noticed from the air one month ago. That is why Captain Kirk and I are here. Starfleet sent us to discover the cause and reason for the murder - and I do believe it to be murder.’

‘It is genocide,’ Seyak snapped angrily. ‘Hundreds of innocent people have been – ’

‘Sha’Vir,’ T’Syan broke in. ‘You must view the problem calmly and logically, to be able to arrive at a clear conclusion.’

‘Leave us,’ Seyak said in a low, threatening tone, turning an angry gaze on her. ‘I grow tired of your useless counsel. Leave us, or you will be forced from here and punished as your blood-cousin was.’

‘Seyak.’ Spock rose to his feet quietly, speaking in Vulcan, as the guards came nearer to T’Syan. ‘If you wish her to leave, she will do so of her own volition. Do not speak to her in such a manner, and do not threaten.’

‘Or you will stop me, with a baby in your arms?’ Seyak sneered. ‘White Vulcans have grown too gentle with their logic and their pacifism, whereas I could have you killed with a snap of my fingers, and feel no regret.’

‘We are here to prevent killing, Tyok,’ Spock said with an edge to his voice. ‘If you feel the need to punish someone for her actions, I will take the lash.’

‘If her actions are your responsibility, then you will make her leave this room, white Vulcan. Unless you are eager to be beaten for her.’

Spock turned to his cousin, and she regarded him with non-emotion. If anything she looked rather amused at Spock’s defence of her.

‘T’Syan. I ask that you obey him,’ he said with quiet sincerity. ‘For the sake of Vulcans that are still in danger.’

‘I will leave,’ T’Syan nodded stiffly, and marched proudly from the room.

Spock sat down again, as a Tyok handed him a bottle of milk for T’Si. The baby clutched at the bottle with tiny hands, and began to drink eagerly. Spock quickly stopped an involuntary smile before it reached his mouth.

‘We were speaking of the pattern of destruction,’ he recalled. ‘I told you a village is decimated every fifteen days. There is another pattern that has occurred to me. If you have a map of this area, and a pen and ruler I will show you.’

Seyak nodded to a guard, and he took a folded map from a drawer. Spock took it and unfolded it, glancing over it briefly to familiarise himself with the style.

‘This map is sophisticated,’ he commented. ‘For persons living the way you do.’

‘We prefer this way, but we do have modern facilities also. This map, we stole,’ Seyak said unashamedly.

‘Hmm,’ Spock grunted, covering his disapproval with difficulty. ‘Seyak, Captain Kirk. These are the villages attacked.’

Kirk took T’Si, and Spock leant forward over the map, marking certain villages with a pencil.

‘Here, here, here and here,’ he finished off. He sat back, pausing for effect, and gave each man a meaningful stare, then he took the ruler and drew a line from the first village to the last. ‘You will notice that the line intersects, or comes very close to, each village destroyed. The mass slaughter has moved rhythmically along that line, from roughly north-west to south-east. By extending this line, we can predict where - and loosely when, each attack will take place.’

‘And my people?’ Seyak questioned him.

Spock scanned quickly over rough sketches and lines drawn in on the map. ‘I take it this is the plan of your underground domain? You keep yourselves extremely private, Tyok. I am told you are a race of hundreds just in this area of the continent, and yet my people believed you were extinct. Some of your caves lie under the villages, or along the line I have drawn, since both Vulcan and Tyok settlements occur near plentiful sources of water. I am forced to believe that the harm caused to your people was an accident - results of unfortunate coincidence.’

‘But why?’ the Sha’Vir shrugged. ‘You have told me where, when; you have even predicted the future, but you still have not told me why this is happening - what people are monsters enough to kill whole families with such a cruel weapon.’

‘He’s right, Spock,’ Kirk agreed apologetically. ‘It’s not good enough to just know where it’s going to happen next. Sure, we can evacuate the people - warn them, but if we don’t know why it’s happening we can’t begin to stop it.’

‘I was coming to that, Captain,’ Spock said smoothly. ‘First of all, I do not believe that an empty village would be destroyed.’

‘Explain,’ Kirk and Seyak ordered simultaneously.

‘Deducted from simple logic, Captain. The people were not killed by the fires - they were killed by this anonymous weapon that distorts living matter into a useless, inoperative shape. Therefore, the only reason for the fires would be to destroy the evidence. To collect hundreds of bodies and dispose of them without trace is virtually impossible, even with our technology. What is simpler, on such a hot, dry planet, than to burn the offending objects? We only discovered what happened to the people because of T’Si’s family, in their fire proof room. But where there are no bodies, there is no reason for burning.’

‘But you haven’t answered the question, Spock,’ Kirk insisted. ‘Why?’

‘There are a number of possibilities, Captain. It could be an attack on my planet, but if it were, surely the large cities would be attacked rather than insignificant hamlets. It could be some freak of nature, but that, also, is highly improbable. Then there is another possibility. That this murder is an experiment - a test, so to speak, for a newly developed weapon. I do think that the latter of the three options is the most likely.’

‘Undoubtedly,’ Kirk agreed.

‘Who would do such a thing?’ Seyak asked despairingly. ‘I do not understand.’

‘Not Vulcans. Not Starfleet,’ Spock said bluntly. ‘That is obvious.’

‘Is it?’ Kirk asked, plainly puzzled.

‘I cannot believe Starfleet would attack its own. And Vulcan’s non-aggressive proclivities aside, I remember saying that fires start easily on Vulcan. Any alien race would deduce that from the hot, dry climate. But anyone who is familiar with Vulcan would know how thin the air is. Fires do start easily, but with the relatively low oxygen content of the atmosphere, they do not burn well, and usually die out quickly. Fires as large as these ones are practically non-existent, unless some person painstakingly lit hundreds of small fires, or had some way of igniting the whole area at one time. Fire is an effective method for destroying evidence, but not on Vulcan. That tells me that whoever is doing this does not know Vulcan. It is merely a planet picked at random from other planets, as a test bed for a new weapon.’

‘A weapon developed by who?’ Seyak insisted.

‘ Sir, if you would release us, we could find out,’ Spock said pointedly. ‘Once on board the  _Enterprise_ , with its scientific equipment at our disposal, we could analyse the burnt villages, examine your people who have been injured, keep watch on the next village likely to be attacked.’

‘No,’ the Sha’Vir said shortly. ‘That I will not do. I will not release you. You have not proved that your Starfleet is not to blame.’

‘We have told you and told you that we have nothing to do with this,’ Captain Kirk snapped. ‘I demand that you release us this instant.’

The Sha’Vir growled with a sudden ferocity that startled Kirk. ‘Lock them back in their cells before I am tempted to have them beaten,’ Seyak snapped to the guards. ‘Bind them to their beds until I give the order to release them.’


	6. Chapter 6

Kirk tried hard to turn both his ears against the pillow at once, to block out the sound of T’Si’s inconsolable wailing and screaming of protest at her neglect. His head was beginning to buzz from the relentless, high-pitched noise. He pitied his first officer with all his heart.

Spock, in the next cell, where the noise was so much louder, strained again at the leather restraints holding him down, staring uselessly at the wooden cradle on the other side of the room.

‘T’Si,’ he called, hoping his voice would reassure her. ‘I am here. You can see me. There is no need for such a flagrant display of emotion.’

The screams only became louder as the baby watched Spock struggling helplessly. Her face was screwed up in a miserable, frightened crumple, shining wet with tears. Spock watched uselessly and almost as miserably, his heart aching to be able to hold and comfort the terrified child.

The emotion he felt was excusable, he told himself in another part of his mind. It was built into a Vulcan’s genes to respond to a Vulcan baby, no matter how emotionally distant they could keep themselves from those of any other species. The old laws and customs of his clan dictated that he was the child’s father now, until another was found. And now he had formed the sh’lana link, he couldn’t let anyone else be parent to the child until he had chosen the suitable person.

Spock suddenly became acutely aware of his distance from his human friends. Kirk and McCoy could be as affectionate as they liked toward the baby – but she was a Vulcan baby to them. They would be perfectly content to let a human nurse look after her once they got to the ship. But his customs dictated he must protect her with his life - it was logical. She was younger, she had a longer life to live than he. Right now she was so small and helpless, utterly dependant on his goodwill for her life. He saw a sudden irony in his position - now he was compelled to act as a nursemaid. In twenty years time, he could chose this child as his mate. If he brought her up, he could bring her up as the ideal and logical companion. It could be done, on Vulcan, but after living with humans, the idea seemed as abhorrent as incest.

He brought his mind, and his eyes, back to the child, trying to understand the wild emotion that was running through her mind. He knew that the last time T’Si had been neglected so was when she had been the only one left alive in a room with her murdered family. Spock knew that she was intelligent enough to keep remembering that, but far too young to separate the reason for that neglect from this one.

‘T’Si, there is life here,’ he assured her, trying to strengthen his mental link enough to calm her. ‘Girl-child, we are both alive. Touch is not the only proof of existence. I know that your mother and your father left you, but I will not leave you until you need me no more.’ He lowered his voice until it would only reach her Vulcan ears. ‘Child, I care for you as a parent. I cannot replace your lost parents - your mother - but I am here for you. I have told you, through my actions, through my words. T’Si - ’

The baby was silent for a wonderful, peaceful moment, staring at him, and Spock wondered if any of what he had said had penetrated her mind. Then she began crying again, louder and stronger. Spock could feel the waves of sheer fear and misery emanating freely from her undisciplined mind. He knew she had understood about the caring, but she was too scared to take any kind of comfort except him holding her.

At last a cursing guard stormed into the room, swiped a huge hand at the baby’s face, knocking the cradle onto its side, then marched out again, slamming the door.

Spock froze in the terrible, abrupt silence that made his ears ring. Then he channelled every ounce of strength to his arms. The leather restraints snapped. He tore at the ones on his legs, then leapt across the room, searching the floor around the empty cradle. Then he saw the baby lying unmoving where she’d been flung across the room.

Spock lifted T’Si carefully off the floor with a cold dread spreading through the pit of his stomach. He gave the solid door a murderous stare, then pounded on it with his fists until it was opened a crack by a cautious guard.

The door slammed the Tyok across the corridor into the stone wall opposite, breaking the man’s nose. Green blood spilled out down the Tyok’s face, dripping onto the stone floor. Spock picked him up by the collar with one free hand, ignoring the blood that flowed down onto his skin.

‘Where is the human, Dr McCoy?’ His voice was deceptively calm.

The man choked, and Spock loosened the grasp.

‘D-down there,’ the guard pointed. ‘Family quarters.’

Spock dropped him and pelted through the caves until he saw Dr McCoy kneeling by a patient on the floor. The doctor glanced up, then jumped to his feet, staring at Spock’s face.

‘God, Spock!’ he exclaimed. ‘You look like you’re going to kill someone! Is that blood all over your hand?’

‘Not mine. One of the guards hit the baby,’ Spock snapped briefly, offering no explanation for his appearance. ‘She’s not making any noise.’

‘How long ago?’ McCoy asked, taking the still baby and lying her on a blanket.

‘One minute, fifty two seconds. She’s not moving.’ He took a second to glance over his shoulder, hearing the expected running feet of guards coming closer.

‘It’s all right. She’s breathing. She’ll be okay now,’ the doctor called, as Spock was dragged away by strong Vulcan guards, then turned back to the tiny baby, muttering, ‘Damn savages.’

******

Spock walked across his cell once more, and pressed his face against the bars, searching down the corridor. The passage was still empty, except for the guards eyeing him nervously. The man he had hit was sitting against the wall, still dazed, nursing his bleeding nose. Spock suddenly became aware of the terrible satisfaction he was feeling to see the man hurt, and the hatred he was feeling for the guards. He went back to sit on his bed, but he couldn’t concentrate to meditate.

Spock stood up again and went back to the door, staring coldly at one of the men. After a few minutes, the guard became unnerved by the unbroken staring, and the window in Spock’s door was snapped shut with an angry curse. Spock gazed at the wood for a moment, then began to pace the floor again like a caged up tiger. Then he heard footsteps in the passage, and the scraping of a key in his door, and McCoy was let in, cradling the baby gently in his arms.

‘Well, Doctor?’ Spock asked quickly, as the door was locked again.

‘I told you before. She’s okay. She was unconscious when you brought her to me. That’s why she wasn’t moving, but she’s come round now. There’s no brain damage, only a little shock, and that’s quite natural. She’s a tough little thing.’

Spock nodded. ‘I am forced to admit that she does, indeed, seem to be a survivor.’

‘She’ll have a nasty bruise on her face, but I gave her a very little painkiller. She’s a mite stunned, but she doesn’t really understand enough to be scared. What happened to make those savages hit a tiny thing like her so hard?’

‘I was restrained on the bed. She was crying and I couldn’t reach her to console her. The guard became angry.’ He reached out to take the baby, but McCoy shook his head at the tight leather that was wrapped around Spock’s wrists, binding his hands together firmly.

‘Better let me untie your hands.’

‘I think not. I am checked on every few minutes. If they find me untied they will likely bind me again, or punish me.’

‘Sit down first then. Are you okay?’ he asked, looking at Spock critically. ‘You look a bit shaken.’

Spock nodded. ‘One of them knocked me to the ground before locking me back in here. They spent some time relieving their anger on me, but I’m not hurt badly. I have only gained a few bruises, and a slight headache.’

McCoy immediately soaked a cloth in some water, and came back to him. Spock let the doctor clean the blood from a cut on his forehead, and the Tyok blood from his hand.

‘I’m so used to just you bleeding green - now I’m surrounded by it,’ McCoy said without looking up. His voice sounded hollow to Spock. ‘What happened to your hands?’ the doctor asked.

‘My hands?’ Spock looked down at his hands for the first time, and saw the bruised and grazed knuckles. ‘Oh. It must have been when I banged on the door, for them to let me out. The situation was quite urgent.’

‘Not to mention you were mad enough to kill. You know, you’ve really scuppered any chance of them trusting us and letting us go?’ McCoy said sourly.

‘I know that, Doctor,’ Spock said heavily. ‘Must you remind me?’

McCoy shook his head. ‘I’m not getting at you. If you hadn’t got to me so fast with little T’Si, she might not be here now.’

McCoy laid the baby carefully in Spock’s tied arms, and the Vulcan inspected her face thoroughly as she stared up at him with wide brown eyes.

‘She’s shaken up,’ the doctor explained. ‘That’s why she’s so quiet. I’m sure she’ll be fine now she’s with her mother,’ he grinned. Then McCoy saw how worried Spock was, and decided to lay aside the usual digs and gibes. ‘She’s okay. Look.’ McCoy sat down and took the baby, bouncing her on his knee. T’Si smiled, then laughed aloud at the faces he made, and the doctor gave her back to Spock.

‘What language is that?’ he asked, running his finger along scratched figures on the wall. ‘Vulcan graffiti? Did old Vulcans have rude jokes, Spock?’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ the Vulcan said, making his distaste plain. He turned his eyes to the hieroglyphic-like figures. ‘It is Vulcan, Doctor. Tyok Vulcan. It is by a man who occupied this room three hundred years ago. It is the day of his execution. He can hear the footsteps of the guards coming to take him to his death.’

‘Oh. I see,’ McCoy said quietly.

‘In twelve days, a village of population two hundred fifty seven will be destroyed,’ Spock said expressionlessly. ‘It is too far away for the Tyok to warn the people in time with their primitive facilities. They do not even have old-style radio. Even if they did, there would be no modern Vulcan with the equipment to answer. Unless we find some way of contacting Starfleet, all two hundred fifty seven people will die, in agony.’

‘What about your cousin? She seems to be in favour with that Sha - whatever.’

‘The Sha’Vir. Yes. If I could speak to T’Syan, she may be able to convince him to contact the Vulcan authorities. The problem is first being allowed to even speak to her, and second, convincing her to speak to Seyak.’

‘Won’t she want to save this village?’

‘Of course, but she knows the authorities will contact Starfleet, and she does not approve of Starfleet. She has her suspicions that Starfleet created this weapon. There, T’Si,’ he said quietly, as the baby began to cry. ‘You’re not hurting now. Dr McCoy has helped you, and I am with you. C’vi. Thu-sa vell, T’Si.’

The baby stopped its whimpering, and clutched at his finger. McCoy smiled at the sight. ‘I didn’t know you had such a way with babies, Spock,’ he teased, then became serious. ‘You really do care about her.’

‘Hmm,’ Spock said with noncommittal.

‘Don’t give me that. Anyone can see you do.’

‘She needs someone to take care of her. I am the logical person to do so. You and the captain are not Vulcan, and cannot give her the teaching she needs. These red Vulcans can hardly look after themselves.’

‘And T’Syan?’

‘White Vulcans have to be logical, but they do not have to be cold and totally dispassionate in that logic. T’Syan is cold. This baby is two months old. She needs almost constant attention, recreation, education. She needs someone who would understand her emotional outbursts, not someone who would ignore them as illogical.’

‘Seems to me that crying because you’re hungry is pretty logical,’ McCoy offered, ‘if you haven’t got any other language. But I suppose that doesn’t explain why she stops crying when you hold her.’

‘I feed her,’ Spock said simply.

‘There’s more to it than that,’ McCoy began teasing again.

‘Doctor,’ Spock said firmly. ‘What did you find with your patients?’

‘A scene from a horror movie,’ McCoy said heavily, fiddling with his thumbs. ‘People with their veins and arteries on the outside of their bodies. People with their internal organs external - most of them are dead or dying. Some look like they were made of plastic that melted. Some, simply deformed, with their arms or legs turning the wrong ways.’

‘In pain?’

‘In agony.’ The doctor was obviously distressed at the helplessness of it. ‘Some of them were begging for me to kill them.’

‘Did you?’

McCoy shook his head. ‘You know I can’t do that. I’m sure they’ll find a way to do it themselves though. I can ease some of their pain, and make the less affected ones more comfortable, but I can’t do a lot for them.’

‘Imagine a whole planet effected by this thing, or a starship - it would be useless,’ Spock pondered. ‘Some of the people would be alive, but defenceless. An effective battle weapon.’

‘Spock, I can’t think of any race cruel enough to create a weapon like this - not even the Klingons. The Klingons would more likely keep the people as slaves. The Romulans have too much honour to do something so underhanded. They may be warlike, cruel sometimes, but they’re not that cruel. Maybe the Andorians. Have you got any theories on how it works?’

‘Only vague ideas, hardly worth repeating. I cannot give you an accurate report until I have more data.’

‘You’re not a damn computer, Spock!’ McCoy exclaimed. ‘I don’t want a 99% accurate response. I just want to know what you think. I have my suspicions too. I’d like to have something to compare them with.’

‘Very well, Doctor. When I first saw T’Si’s family was when we first had any idea of what killed the people. They were in a room protected from fire, and so the evidence was not destroyed. T’Si escaped injury as her mother had protected her with her body. Doctor, you have seen a person who has been sent through a malfunctioning transporter?’

‘I’ve seen at least ten of the really bad cases, when the signal’s been distorted. I wish to God I hadn’t.’

‘I can understand your aversion to being sent through the transporter,’ Spock nodded. ‘When I saw the family, I remembered those cases.’

‘That’s what I thought of when I saw the injured Tyok. You think someone’s manipulated the transporter effect to turn it into a weapon?’

‘It is possible. You have heard of the experiments for curing people who are crippled or deformed? The signal is carefully altered so as to sculpt the person back to a normal shape.’

‘I’ve heard of it. I suppose if it works it’ll be a medical breakthrough, but it seems a damn risky cure.’

‘It has worked successfully on the first cases, but what can be used for good, can also be turned to evil. Picture a perfectly normal person being sent through a beam to, say, cure a spinal deformity. The results would be catastrophic.’

‘Spock, do you think someone’s gotten hold of one of these devices?’ McCoy asked seriously.

‘Or another person has come up with the same idea, but a person who wants to create suffering, rather a person who wants to end it.’

‘Maybe.’ McCoy got to his feet, and strode across the cell, and then back again, thinking hard. ‘Spock, I don’t really like the idea,’ he began, ‘but do you think, if these people were made like this by a transporter beam, the work can be undone?’

‘Possible. And Seyak has captured one such device. He demonstrated it on Jim’s hand. The effect was reversed, and the captain is unharmed.’

‘Now we need to speak to Seyak, and that seems practically impossible.’

‘The captain angered him by demanding our release. Sha’Vir Seyak does not respond well to demands, or threats. And I am not sure how eager he would be to let you use the device on his people. He knows it only as evil. To suggest that you turn the beam on them again would be insanity to him.’

‘But, God, Spock,’ McCoy said desperately. ‘We can save these people’s lives. Surely he’ll see that?’

‘He is a red Vulcan,’ Spock said impassively. ‘You humans may think you are emotional, but you have not experienced Vulcans who have had no training in emotional control. Such a person can be one moment ecstatic, the next moment, murderous to the extreme. There is no way of saying how they will react to anything. I was beaten for refusing to kneel in front of the Sha’Vir. I was forced to hold white hot iron because I attempted an escape. Not long afterward he apologised, saying he regretted what was done to me. Whatever I say, I do not know how it will be interpreted, whether I will be punished viciously, or applauded.’

‘I do see what you mean, Spock,’ McCoy nodded seriously. ‘But we have to get out of here. Those people are dying _right now_. We have to get to them quickly.’

‘I could effect another escape,’ Spock mused. ‘But I’m sure I would not get far. I have to find the device before I find the victims.’

Then the lights snapped off, and McCoy heaved a sigh. ‘I guess I’ll be spending the night here.’

‘Yes,’ Spock said, as something dawned on him. ‘Fortunate, Doctor.’

‘Fortunate?’ McCoy asked incredulously. ‘Spock. We have to spend the night in a cell two metres by two metres, with only one bed. I don’t call that fortunate.’

‘You misunderstand me, Doctor. The prospect of trying to sleep confined in such a small place with you does not appeal to me, but at least we each know where the other is. We were speaking of escape. At night, people become tired. If I concentrate, I can tell when the guards outside are at their least alert. If I am cautious, I could get out of our cell, and back in again, before it is noticed I am gone.’

‘Hang on.’ McCoy held up a hand. ‘What’s all this I? I’m coming too.’

‘Doctor, if I am discovered, it is likely I will be punished very severely,’ Spock said with the utmost seriousness. ‘If I am discovered with the device in my hand, I could be killed. I cannot allow you to take that risk also.’

‘Spock, you’re not a doctor,’ McCoy insisted. ‘You can’t help those people.’

‘I am familiar with Vulcan physiology, and I am trained in first aid.’

‘You’re _still_ not a doctor,’ McCoy growled, ‘and if you try to escape without me, I’ll kick up such a stink that they’ll hear me at the other end of the cave system.’

‘Very well, Doctor,’ Spock agreed heavily. ‘Since you see fit to blackmail me. Do you believe we should alert Jim?’ he asked, with a hint of humour in his tone at his anticipation of McCoy’s response.

McCoy hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘We only need one person to find this device, and me to treat the patients. You know what it looks like. There’s no point in risking Jim’s life too.’

‘Logical,’ Spock nodded. ‘Now. I would expect the device to be in the Sha’Vir’s office. He brought it out of a desk in that room. I am afraid the captain and I were blindfolded when brought from our cells to the office, but I made sure I remembered the numbers of footsteps, and the directions taken. I assume the guards will leave us to sleep now.’

‘Spock, do you think you can get the door open with your hands burnt the way they are - and with broken fingers? It must be pretty painful.’

‘It is manageable,’ Spock said shortly. ‘Thanks to your ministrations, and those of the Tyok healer, they are growing easier day by day. If you would undo these bonds?’

McCoy nodded, and quickly fumbled with the leather straps in the darkness. When they were free, Spock wrapped his arms around the baby, and leant back against the wall. McCoy hesitated, then clambered up onto the bed and sat mirroring Spock, sharing some of the blanket.

‘Okay,’ he asked. ‘So what do we do now?’

‘We wait.’

‘Right. Night, Spock.’

McCoy waited for a reply, but none came, so he said, ‘Huh,’ loudly, with plenty of contempt, and twisted his body away from the Vulcan, in a silence that could be cut with a knife. And they waited.

McCoy was slipping into another doze when Spock shook his arm.

‘Doctor. I sense no higher neurological activity from outside. The breathing I hear is slow and relaxed. Do you have tranquilliser in your medical kit?’

‘Plenty,’ he nodded. ‘Those Vulcans preferred to have me use their own medicines.’

‘Good.’

‘What about the kid?’

‘T’Si will be fine if I lie her correctly. We shall not be gone too long.’

Spock got down off the bed, stretching his cramped legs, and laid the sleeping baby in her cradle. He moved his fingers over the door, until they felt the section that could be slid back to make a window. After some time, he had forced the partition open, and Spock reached outside to unlock the door, commenting quietly on the inefficiency of the Tyok people. Then he and McCoy were standing cautiously in the corridor, while Spock listened and found the guards to sedate them. The torches on the walls had guttered out, and there was only inky blackness around them.

‘Take my arm,’ Spock whispered, and felt McCoy’s hand fumble to his arm. ‘Follow.’

The Vulcan concentrated, remembering the exact sequence of steps to Sha’Vir Seyak’s office. The corridors sloped steadily upwards at almost every turn, and soon the dark began to fade to warm torchlight. Spock glanced ahead anxiously at a bright light at the end of the passage, but the door to Seyak’s office was only two paces away now. Silently, he twisted the handle and the door swung inwards. Through the crack there was only blackness. They slipped in, leaving the door open slightly. McCoy was still in blackness, but Spock’s eyes adjusted slowly to the minute quantity of light, and he found the desk, the drawer, and then the hand held device they were searching for.

McCoy pulled Spock to the ground behind the desk as footsteps were heard outside in the passage. A red-skinned Vulcan put his head in through the half open door, and swung the light of a blazing torch across the room. He grunted, satisfied, turned, and shut the door behind him as he left.

‘Close,’ McCoy mumbled.

‘Extremely,’ Spock whispered. ‘Fortuitous that we were not noticed.’

‘Let’s get out of this place. It gives me the creeps.’

Spock considered telling him that was illogical, but instead he went across to the door and peeped out into the empty corridor.

‘Come, Doctor,’ he beckoned.

Soon they were creeping quietly into the makeshift hospital McCoy had been working in, and the doctor bent down over the sleeping Vulcans.

‘Not good,’ he muttered. ‘Some are already dead.’

‘Then we must work quickly.’

There was one torch still burning on the wall, and Spock took it to light the others. McCoy took the device they had taken from Seyak’s office, and turned it under the torchlight, looking at it closely.

‘Spock!’ he exclaimed.

‘Shh,’ Spock responded swiftly.

‘Spock, this is it!’ McCoy said quietly. ‘This is one of the test devices. A MIPTD.’

‘Medicinal Inter-Personal Transportation Device,’ Spock said.

‘That’s right. There was a picture in the last medical update from command medical section. Someone must have stolen it.’

‘If it were stolen there would be an alert to all divisions,’ Spock pointed out. ‘ _Enterprise_ was not alerted. Doctor, this must be a copy.’

‘You mean someone has gotten hold of the plans, duplicated them and sold them?’ McCoy asked incredulously.

‘For money, some people will do anything. Some unscrupulous person could become extremely rich from such a transaction. Unfortunately, there are such people in Starfleet.’

‘Well, that’s irrelevant now,’ McCoy muttered, scanning the controls on the device. ‘Okay.’ He turned to the first person, and turned the device on. The sleeping Vulcan seemed to turn to shimmering red, then, as McCoy turned a dial, the twisted, deformed limbs eased back to a normal shape.

‘Spock! It works,’ he sighed.

‘Was there ever any doubt?’

‘Maybe not in your mind, but it doesn’t seem right to me to take a person’s molecules apart and stick them back together in a different order.’

‘Maybe,’ Spock nodded, ‘but this is no place for the discussion of ethics. We must make haste,’ he prompted. ‘We have to return to our cells before the guards come round.’

‘I know,’ McCoy muttered. ‘But don’t rush me. I’d hate to kill one of them.’


	7. Chapter 7

Spock looked out into the empty passage once more, then paced back across the room and knelt down by the last victim, as McCoy activated the beam again. He was silent for a moment, to let the doctor concentrate.

‘Done?’ he asked softly, as the effect licked sparkling red over the unconscious woman.

‘This is the last one.’

McCoy sighed with relief as veins pulsing with green blood shimmered and returned to the inside of the patient. He put the device on the floor and began to turn around.

‘Don’t,’ said a slow, calm voice. ‘Stay frozen.’

Spock and McCoy stayed as still as was possible, as the footsteps approached, and a hand came around to confiscate the device.

‘Now stand and turn slowly, with your hands away from your body.’

‘T’Syan,’ Spock said as he turned around and raised his hands into the air. The woman was aiming a phaser directly at him.

‘I came to check on the patients,’ she said in a slow, measured tone. ‘It seems I was wise. What were you doing with this?’

She held up the device before them, holding it in the tips of her fingers as if it was disgusting to her.

‘We were helping these people,’ McCoy smiled uncertainly, hoping to show her they were doing no harm. ‘They’re all cured,’

‘You know this device?’ she asked with a slowly rising eyebrow. ‘You know how it works?’

‘Yes, it was developed by Federation doctors,’ he began to explain, before Spock could stop him.

‘So,’ she said, with a wealth of meaning behind that word. ‘You have now proved to us that your Federation carried out the attacks.’

‘No!’ McCoy protested swiftly, horrified at how she had interpreted his words.

‘T’Syan,’ Spock began.

Without a change in expression the woman abruptly flicked the device on and held its beam out towards the two men. Both fell to the floor instantly, writhing in agony until she reversed the effect.

‘Now walk,’ she ordered sharply.

Spock suppressed the pain that pulsed in his body, and helped McCoy to his feet. They walked obediently in front of T’Syan, knowing it was useless to resist.

‘Where are you taking us?’ Spock asked quietly.

‘To Sha’Vir Seyak, naturally,’ she said coldly. ‘Now we have proof that it was your Starfleet that created this weapon.’

‘That is totally illogical,’ Spock said, some heat entering his voice. ‘You have no proof. Starfleet may have developed the prototype, but nothing else. This device was made to work for good, not to create death.’

‘Do not speak, cousin,’ she said in a cutting tone. ‘I find it hard to listen to your voice when I know you are capable of such evil.’

‘The people are cured, T’Syan,’ Spock protested. ‘Please. There is no need to take us to the Sha’Vir. I beg you to listen to us. Allow me one minute to explain.’

‘No.’

‘Are you afraid, Spock?’ McCoy asked almost silently out of the side of his mouth. He had never heard the Vulcan plead in such a way before – but perhaps his still-healing back and hands gave him a very good excuse to be wary.

Spock hesitated for a moment, before replying, ‘Not afraid, but I told you of how irrational these Tyok are. Seyak will be furious when he hears that we stole the device and used it on his people, even if they are cured. There will be no logic in his reaction.’

Spock gave him a meaningful look, and then fixed his eyes back on the corridor ahead of them, falling into a preoccupied silence.

‘I see,’ the doctor nodded, understanding perfectly, and he too lapsed into silence.

******

Kirk tiptoed quietly into a tiny, bare, whitewashed cave-room, followed by Lieutenant Dempster. He found himself waiting instinctively for the door to be locked, then realised the Tyok had no intention of imprisoning them this time.

‘There.’

The lieutenant pointed at two small, narrow beds on opposite sides of the room, and Kirk went forward quickly, staring at the men that lay peacefully under thin blankets. Both had faces as white as  _Enterprise_ ’s outer hull, and were apparently unconscious.

‘Spock! Bones!’ he hissed, shaking his head in dismay at the sight of his friends.

There was a sudden, urgent, reflex movement in Spock’s face, and the Vulcan’s eyes snapped open. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, as if taking in his position, then turned his head slowly and opened his mouth. Kirk shook his head, running to him.

‘It’s okay. Don’t try to move.’

Spock struggled to focus his tear-misted eyes, and Kirk touched a hand quickly to his arm.

‘It’s Jim. You’re okay now.’

The Vulcan nodded so slightly that his head barely moved, He blinked hard, clearing away the water that was blinding him.

‘Can you see?’ Kirk asked him quickly, a horrible fear overcoming him.

‘Y-yes,’ Spock whispered hoarsely. ‘Blurred. A little blurred. McCoy?’ he asked urgently.

Kirk glanced at the other bed. ‘He’s unconscious, but he seems stable,’ he said softly. In truth he was not certain of how well McCoy was, but there was no sense in giving Spock extra concern.

‘Th-that is good,’ Spock whispered, feeling his dry mouth crack as if it were made of old concrete.

Kirk took a jug from a table and gave him a little water. The Vulcan swallowed, then coughed painfully, and Kirk saw dark spots of blood appear, spattering onto the white blanket.

‘Careful,’ he muttered, worried. ‘Try not to cough.’

‘Hurts to breathe.’ Spock’s breath rasped as he spoke.

‘I know, but you’ll be okay soon,’ Kirk promised.

‘Uncertain,’ Spock murmured, and more blood came from the side of his mouth and ran darkly down his bruised chin. His face was marked with burns and dark patches of blood under the skin. He struggled to focus properly on Kirk’s eyes. ‘I won’t recover without modern treatment, Jim. They hurt us badly - internal injuries – ’

‘You won’t die,’ Kirk said firmly. ‘I won’t let that happen.’

Spock’s eyebrow rose minutely – a gesture that in a human would have been expressed as a hollow laugh. Kirk sighed, and touched his hand to Spock’s shoulder again. It was difficult finding somewhere to touch him that he thought might not be injured – but Spock flinched even at that gentle touch, and he withdrew his hand.

‘Spock, I should never have – ’ he began, although he was not sure what he was going to say.

Spock looked up into his friend’s eyes again. ‘No, Jim. None of this is any fault of yours.’

Kirk swallowed on nausea as he glanced down at Spock’s hands and saw that there were only bloody wounds where his fingernails had been. Spock glanced at his fingers, and looked away quickly.

‘Y-yes, all of them,’ he said, in response to Kirk’s unspoken question. Kirk put his hand gently on Spock’s head to soothe him as he collapsed into uncontrollable tremors. Then he managed to carry on. ‘They w-will regrow.’

‘What else did they do?’ Kirk asked quietly.

The Vulcan’s face, already deathly pale, lost another degree of colour. He suddenly looked completely exhausted.

‘I d-don’t remember,’ he said, his gaze seeming to turn in on itself. ‘It’s – unclear.’

‘All right, Spock,’ Kirk nodded. It was clear that he was not going to get any more from his friend. ‘How long’ve you been awake?’ he asked. ‘You were awake when we came in, weren’t you?’

Spock’s forehead furrowed. ‘Few hours, I b-believe. I c-cannot be certain.’

The Vulcan convulsed with violent shudders, and he collapsed into more ragged, retching coughs, showering the surroundings in blood. Kirk put his hands on Spock’s shoulders and tried to keep his friend steady, murmuring comfort. He watched in horror as he heard a strange gargling in Spock’s throat, and a virtual wave of green flooded onto the blankets. He lifted a corner of the blanket and swabbed some of the blood from the smashed lips.

‘Are you in much pain?’ he asked, when the Vulcan was lying still, but further weakened, on the mattress.

‘No. Not a g-great deal. They gave us painkillers, I think. Sometime afterwards... T’Syan caught us,’ he mumbled. ‘They punished us for - We...’

He trailed off into tired silence.

‘Mr Spock,’ Kirk sighed with a faint smile. ‘Next time you decide to go off on these crazy stunts, will you consult me first?’

‘It was necessary to s-save lives,’ Spock excused himself. ‘But there was – no need for you t-to be involved.’

Kirk stopped him with a shake of his head. ‘I understand. What did you do? Talk as little as possible,’ he added hastily. ‘The guards this morning said you stole that device and tried to murder the Tyok patients, but I don’t believe that.’

One of Spock’s eyebrows lifted. ‘C-cured them. We cured them.’

Kirk nodded. ‘I understand,’ he said ‘Don’t talk too much. But I suppose that’d explain Seyak’s message.’

‘Message?’

‘He sends his apologies. He thought he was a little harsh in your punishment.’

Spock’s eyebrow rose again. ‘A – little.’

‘I know. I guess by now he’s worked out you were only helping those people. He says that now he can trust us. I suppose he thinks you wouldn’t go to all that trouble to help those people if you hurt them in the first place.’

‘Yes.’

Spock closed his eyes over the whirling shapes and patterns in his vision, trying to stop the sensation of being on a boat in a storm. The effort of talking was making him feel distinctly unwell.

‘Sir.’ Dempster turned from McCoy’s bed on the other side of the room. ‘He’s coming round now.’

Kirk was by the doctor’s side almost instantly.

‘Bones,’ he said in a low voice.

‘Jim?’ McCoy didn’t open his eyes. His face was as mutilated as Spock’s was. ‘That you?’

‘Yes. You okay, Doc?’ he asked, almost amused at how very rhetorical that question was.

‘Feel - l-like someone’s been b-beating me ... with a sledgehammer.’

‘You look like it too,’ Kirk smiled gently.

‘S-spock,’ McCoy said with sudden urgency. ‘They were furious with him. He okay? Is – is he alive?’

The doctor made the mistake of trying to sit up, and his head pounded with a sudden ferocity that almost made him sick.

‘Lie down, Bones!’ Kirk ordered sharply, then said more softly, ‘He’s okay. Says he’s been awake for hours.’

‘Trust him. Bet he’s f-f-’ The doctor struggled with the word, wracked with tremors. ‘F-fit as fiddle by now.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. It might be a few hours yet before he’s back on duty,’ the captain half joked, trying not to worry the doctor.

‘Jim, I - don’t remember what they did to me,’ McCoy said in a puzzled voice.

‘I don’t think Spock does either at the moment,’ Kirk reassured him. ‘Don’t worry about it right now. It doesn’t matter.’

‘Boy, it hurt though,’ he mumbled. ‘Those Vulcans really know how to – ’

He exploded into coughs like Spock’s, though minus the blood, Kirk noted with relief. He waited until the doctor was finished, then settled him back carefully into the bed.

‘Jim,’ Spock’s hoarse voice called him.

The Vulcan was managing to sit up, despite Dempster’s efforts to keep him flat.

‘What is it?’ Kirk asked, going back to him. ‘Spock, lie down. Don’t try to move.’

The Vulcan stayed more or less upright. ‘T’Si,’ he said faintly. ‘Is someone with her? She shouldn’t be left alone. After what happened...’

‘Hang on - but lie down.’

The captain went to the door of the room. A Tyok woman stood dutifully outside, holding the baby lovingly and trying to keep her asleep. Kirk spoke a few words to her, then took the child from her.

‘See, Spock?’ he said as he returned. He offered the bundle for the Vulcan to see.

‘Yes, of course. Thank you, Captain,’ Spock said, an abashed look coming over his face.

Kirk smiled, then the expression dropped from his face.

‘Spock!’ he exclaimed, seeing the state of the Vulcan’s back. All of the previously healing wounds had been broken open, and added to by fresh ones, and blood was seeping down his back. ‘For God’s sake, lie down,’ he urged. ‘You’re bleeding. You need to lie down and rest.’

The Vulcan looked puzzled, trying to think as he lay back into the bed. He felt as if the painkiller that the Tyok had given him had numbed his mind as well as his body, but he had enough wits left to reason that it was probably the amount of blood he had lost that was confusing him.

‘Where are your clothes?’ Kirk asked, looking about the room. ‘We have to get out of here, even if I have to carry you.’

Spock shook his head. ‘I don’t know where they are. They stripped us.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Neither of us - can travel, Captain, and there is no hope of escape in our condition.’

‘Captain Kirk.’

Kirk turned at the quiet male voice, expecting anyone but who he saw. There were two people standing anxiously in the doorway - one in a blue shirt and black trousers, the other in a short blue dress, both looking equally tired, dusty and extremely worried. His mouth hung open as under the dust and dirt he recognised Dr M’Benga and Nurse Chapel of the  _Enterprise_ ,

‘Doctor, Nurse! How did you find us?’ he asked straight away.

‘Well, she called us, through a communicator,’ Chapel said in surprise, her eyes flicking to the two injured men. She drew in a sharp breath, and began to walk towards Spock.

Kirk put out his hand to stop her for a moment. ‘She? Who? What she?’

She shrugged, still impatient to treat her patients. ‘T’Syan,’ she said as if it were perfectly obvious. ‘Mr Spock’s cousin. She said Dr McCoy and Mr Spock were very ill - that they might die if they weren’t helped.’

‘Miss T’Syan called the _Enterprise_ ,’ M’Benga explained calmly. ‘She told us that there was permission for two people from the medical department to beam down - that Mr Spock and Dr McCoy were seriously, maybe fatally ill – ’

‘Seriously ill?’ Kirk harrumphed incredulously. ‘And I bet she didn’t tell you who inflicted their condition?’

‘No. Naturally, she didn’t,’ M’Benga agreed, his dark eyes moving to the two men. ‘We were afraid it was a trick, but we couldn’t risk the possibility of the call being genuine, as I see it is. We beamed down at a point some way away from here and were made to walk blindfold.’

Chapel eased her weight from one tired foot to the other. ‘We were forced to walk a long way. Then they put us in what felt like an old-fashioned, boneshaker cart. They must be very nervous about people discovering this place.’

‘I’m sure they are,’ Kirk agreed. ‘Seeing they found it necessary to stun or knock out everyone else they brought here. You got off lightly, Nurse,’ he smiled.

‘I don’t know about that, sir,’ she said dryly. ‘At least stunned you get carried. What with the high gravity, the thin air and the heat – ’

She turned at the noise of coughing from Spock’s bed - a gentle, attention-seeking cough this time.

‘I - have been calculating...’ the Vulcan said. ‘When did T’Syan call you, Doctor?’

‘Late last night - about twelve hours ago,’ M’Benga guessed.

Spock nodded slightly. ‘Then she called you ... before punishment was inflicted.’

‘God, Spock!’ Kirk spun to face him. ‘You mean that she knew what’d be done to you? She knew you’d end up half dead?’

‘It would be logical - for her to call the ship beforehand, if she cared for our recovery,’ Spock said in defence of his cousin. ‘With the Tyok’s caution, the doctor and I would undoubtedly have been dead b-by the time aid reached, had she delayed calling.’

The effort of speaking sent Spock back into fits of coughs and trembling. Even so, he tried to sit up and carry on talking.

‘No.’ M’Benga came over to him quickly. ‘Lie still, Mr Spock. Don’t move at all. Try not to speak now.’

‘Shouldn’t we get them back to the _Enterprise_?’ Kirk suggested.

‘We can’t, sir,’ he said simply and calmly. ‘They took everything except for the medical equipment. We’ll have to do the best we can here, with what we have.’

‘S-so we’re still prisoners?’ McCoy asked faintly from across the room.

Chapel turned to him, and on seeing how ill and pale he was went quickly to him to scan him and give him some painkiller.

‘They said we’re free to go anywhere in this complex, but they’d rather we didn’t try to go outside,’ she explained, as she held a scanner out over the doctor.

‘I see,’ Kirk said grimly. ‘Then we all still have to be very careful.’ He indicated Spock and McCoy. ‘This is what tends to happen when these people are made angry.’

He took M’Benga by the arm, and led him back across the room.

‘Dr McCoy’s pretty bad,’ he murmured, too quietly for Spock’s Vulcan ears. ‘But Spock’s coughing up blood all the time,’ he said worriedly. ‘That’s bad, isn’t it? He doesn’t think he’ll live without care on the _Enterprise_.’

‘It certainly isn’t promising, but it’s not necessarily a fatal sign,’ M’Benga reassured him. ‘I’m sure we can get the Tyoks to let us have anything we need beamed down, sir, and I’m assured that the Vulcan authorities are doing all they can to locate this place. Is he coughing a lot?’

‘You saw how he was coughing just now. I only just came in a few minutes ago, but there’s a lot of blood on his blanket. He coughed a few times when I was with him, and there’s some blood when he speaks.’

M’Benga nodded. ‘It’s likely they both have internal injuries. I have to examine them both first, to be sure. I doubt either of them will die now.’ He turned back to his patients, and went over to scan McCoy.

‘What did they do to you, Mr Spock?’ Chapel asked, by the Vulcan’s bed now.

‘I do not know,’ he said frankly. ‘I c-cannot remember.’

M’Benga over to the Vulcan, having given McCoy a good dose of sedative.

‘Mr Spock, we will have to help you try and remember. With Dr McCoy, it is safer he forgets, but – ’

‘I am Vulcan. I have to know.’

‘Precisely. May I ask where this little fellow came from?’ he enquired, looking at the baby. ‘Will you take him and check him over?’ he said aside to Nurse Chapel, and she nodded.

‘Yes, of course,’ she said, as Kirk handed over the baby with a degree of relief. ‘Where is it from, Mr Spock?’ she asked, turning back to the Vulcan. ‘It’s one of your kind, not from these cave people.’

‘I found her in the ruins of her house,’ Spock explained. ‘Her name is T’Si.’ Then he couldn’t stop himself saying, ‘Be careful with her, Nurse.’

‘I’ve done my fair share of time on maternity wards, Mr Spock,’ she assured him. ‘Oh, she’s beautiful. And tiny little pointed ears! Is she an orphan?’

‘Her family is dead. There may be relatives ... but usually people living in such a clan do not have family elsewhere.’

‘I see. What happened to her face?’ she asked, looking anxiously at the bruise.

Spock paused for a moment. ‘She was hit by a Tyok guard, because she cried,’ he said tonelessly.

He closed his eyes as M’Benga peeled back the blanket, and heard Kirk gasp at the state of the bruised and broken skin all over his body - the way his blood was soaking into the blankets and sheets.

‘Dr McCoy is about the same,’ the doctor commented, laying that blanket back, ‘Mr Spock has been hung from his wrists. His shoulders are wrenched, and his wrists are cut deeply.’

A grimace flashed across Spock’s face as a memory burst over him.

‘Nurse,’ M’Benga said quietly. ‘I think Mr Spock needs to rest.’

She nodded in understanding, taking a sedative from her kit and injecting it into Spock’s arm before he could protest. Spock gave her a brief, betrayed look, and then floated back to sleep.

M’Benga looked at the read-outs on his medical tricorder, then straightened up, turning to Kirk. ‘They’ll be unconscious a good long while. Sleep is the best thing for them at the moment. They’ll both be in extreme pain when the painkiller wears off, they’ve both lost a considerable amount of blood, and are at risk from infection here. They also have internal injuries. Mr Spock’s lungs are damaged, and his throat is abraded, which is why he’s coughing up the blood. They both have broken ribs, and other miscellaneous broken bones. They both need care on the ship, Captain.’

‘That’s impossible,’ Kirk sighed wearily, looking down at his friend’s sleeping face. ‘There’s no way to get them up there.’

Chapel glanced towards the door, seeing that the guard who had been hovering about there had disappeared.

‘It’s not impossible,’ she said in a low voice.

‘You said they took everything from you!’ Kirk said, turning accusingly on the doctor.

‘They did,’ M’Benga protested, spreading his hands wide.

‘Not everything,’ Chapel said, a smile spreading over her face. ‘They searched us, but even these Vulcans have some restraint.’

She reached down the front of her blue dress and drew out a warm communicator. She held it out to Kirk with a triumphant smile. He took a step back, holding up his hands and shaking his head.

‘You call the ship,’ he said, as if he were doing her a favour.

‘Thank you, sir.’ She opened the communicator, and her voice became crisp and businesslike. ‘ _Enterprise_. This is Nurse Chapel. Six to beam up - wide field. Have two stretchers ready. Prepare sickbay for blood transfusions.’

A moment later the six figures in the room dissolved into golden sparkles, and disappeared.


	8. Chapter 8

Kirk stepped quietly into the sickbay, meeting Dr M’Benga at the door. McCoy lay flat in one bed, pale but awake, and looking brighter, looking sideways with an expression of deep concern. Kirk followed the direction of the gaze, and saw Spock sitting up in the next bed with his hands together in an attitude of meditation. His face was pale, his eyes apparently focussed inward on something completely within his own mind.

‘Is he all right?’ the captain asked M’Benga in a low voice.

‘Oh, quite all right,’ M’Benga nodded, glancing briefly at the Vulcan. ‘He’s been through the self-healing process. Now he’s remembering what he went through down there, analysing it and dealing with each incident that happened to him there. He probably won’t talk about it, and we shouldn’t try to make him. As a Vulcan he’s quite capable of dealing with it in his own mind.’

‘I see,’ Kirk nodded, in awe as ever of Spock’s incredible mental capacity. ‘What about McCoy?’

M’Benga shook his head. ‘I doubt he’ll ever remember it, and it’s best that he doesn’t. He doesn’t have the mental discipline to handle it the way Mr Spock does. They’ll both be fine,’ he assured the captain. ‘Mr Spock will be well enough to begin light duties in a few days. It will take longer with Dr McCoy, of course.’’

‘Can you tell what happened?’

‘Well,’ he said slowly. He beckoned for the captain to follow him out of the room. When they were out of earshot of both patients he began again. ‘Mr Spock already had the underlying conditions of his earlier treatment – whipping and burns, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Kirk nodded. ‘I gathered a few clips round the ear myself, but I got off lightly compared to the others. Dempster got away without a scratch. What about the last assault, then?’

M’Benga shrugged his lanky shoulders. ‘It’s very hard to separate each injury and its cause. They were both tortured horrifically. Whoever did it knew how to inflict the maximum amount of pain without actually killing them. It’s obvious they were whipped, and they have bruises covering the backs of their bodies.’

‘Spock was worse than McCoy.’

The doctor nodded. ‘They may have held him more responsible, sir. As I said on Vulcan, he has been hung by his arms, and obviously tortured in that position. They both have. Their nails were pulled off. They’ll regrow quickly - within a few days, with the right treatment and growth stimulants. Beyond that, I can’t tell specifically what happened. Maybe someone who knows about methods of ancient Vulcan punishment could tell you what exactly was done. They both suffered damage to internal organs, external burns, stress to certain areas of the body. They’re both very confused about the experience. Mr Spock seemed to think that he passed out many times, but was always brought around. But he remembered very little when I interviewed him. Dr McCoy has blocked it out completely. It’s plain it was extremely traumatic, and agonisingly painful.’

The captain nodded. ‘Can I see them?’ he asked quietly.

‘You can speak to Dr McCoy, sir,’ he nodded, ‘but on no account disturb Mr Spock - not in the middle of the process.’

‘Okay,’ Kirk nodded.

He went back through to the ward, where McCoy was still watching Spock with grave concern. Kirk watched them both for a moment, then strode forward to McCoy’s bed.

‘Bones. How are you?’ he asked.

‘I should be treating him, not lying in bed,’ the doctor growled, his voice hoarse. He nodded at Spock, but he winced as he tried to move.

‘What’s that?’ Kirk asked.

‘My back. I suppose they beat me. Spock looks like he’s watching a horror film,’ he muttered in frustration. ‘I should be helping him.’

‘He’s helping himself, Bones,’ Kirk assured him ‘And Dr M’Benga knows all there is to know about Vulcans. You’ve told me that yourself. You should concentrate on healing yourself.’

‘A doctor, lying in bed while his nurses feed him medicines,’ McCoy complained. ‘It’s not what I’m used to. They’re having a whale of a time.’

‘I bet they are,’ Kirk smiled.

‘Where’s that baby, Jim?’ McCoy asked. ‘Spock’s been asking about her every moment he gets. You’d think he was her mother…’

‘Well, he did form that telepathic bond with her,’ Kirk reminded him. ‘Has he told you about that?’

‘The sh’lana thing? Yeah, he said something about it, but I’ve never been that great at Vulcan mumbo-jumbo. I take it he’s her adopted parent until he finds someone else.’

‘That’s about the size of it,’ Kirk nodded. ‘Anyway, I think Nurse Calvert had her last, in his quarters.’

‘Good,’ McCoy nodded in satisfaction. ‘We managed to persuade Spock that they’re a little better qualified than him to look after her. He wanted to take care of her even when he was still too weak to sit up. He’s got this thing about them not being able to take care of a Vulcan baby. Something to do with teaching her. What can a child that age – ’

‘Vulcan children do begin their schooling pretty young,’ Kirk shrugged. ‘He’s already begun teaching her basic math.’

‘Jim, she’s two months old!’ McCoy said in a horrified tone.

‘Bones, she’d go mad if she had nothing to occupy her. If either of us left her alone for even a few minutes she’d scream until someone came to her. She’s got that down to a fine art. She thrived on mental arithmetic.’

‘She hasn’t screamed since she’s been on the ship,’ McCoy pointed out.

‘Well, she - calmed down since she was hit, Bones. I think she’s afraid of being belted again if she makes too much noise.’

‘Poor kid,’ the doctor muttered. ‘To lose her whole family - to see them all die, then be terrorised by those Tyok. Now passed from nurse to nurse. Whoever’s got the time – ’

‘I know,’ Kirk nodded. ‘I took care of her for a few hours, and she was miserable. She wants Spock, I think. He’s the only one she’s really comfortable with. Bones, maybe you could talk to M’Benga. I’m sure that now he’s been through the healing trance they’d both be less bothered if they were together. He’s got some kind of mental link...’

‘I’ll tell him,’ McCoy said, then added firmly, ‘when I think Spock’s okay.’

Kirk’s eyes moved to the infuser over the doctor’s arm.

‘How much longer with that?’ he asked.

‘Not long. They’re filling me up with blood like they used to pump cars gas.’

‘You really took a beating down there, Bones.’

‘Don’t I know it!’ McCoy exclaimed, then his face blanked for a moment, as if he were trying hard to bring something back to memory. ‘You know, Jim, I remember some of it - not the actual torture, but before then. We were taken to some kinda trial, in front of Seyak.’ He shook his head, wondering if he was remembering right. ‘If Spock hadn’t - You know, I could have sworn that Spock hated those Tyok with all his heart.’

Kirk shook his head. ‘I know he doesn’t like them, but he doesn’t hate them. Spock’d let a mosquito suck his blood because if it didn’t it’d die. He can’t hate.’

‘I remember that he got pretty miffed when the Platonians had us under their influence, and made him do all that humiliating stuff,’ McCoy muttered. ‘But you are right. He shouldn’t be able to hate. I don’t know why he hates them so much. By the sound of it, he hated them before they even did anything.’

‘Vulcan matters are very complicated, Bones. I think it has something to do with their past - maybe because the Tyok wouldn’t give up their emotions.’

‘Emotions!’ McCoy snorted. ‘You didn’t see him after they hit T’Si. He looked absolutely murderous, Jim. I saw one of the guards on the way back with T’Si - I had to treat him. He said Spock smashed his nose with the door. Spock was like - I don’t know – ’

‘Like a mother tiger who’d just seen her cub attacked?’ Kirk suggested.

‘Hmm. Jim, you’d barely know that man’s half human, but he does have a soft patch for little children and furry animals. He can’t hold a tribble without petting it. I just hope he doesn’t get too attached, cause he’ll have to give her up in the end.’

‘I’ll talk to him - but we were discussing hate, not love, Bones. You said, if Spock hadn’t...?’

‘Oh, yes. Like I said, they put us on some kind of trial. We both knew we’d be found guilty before it started. Spock was perfectly logical, unemotional, all through it, then they announced – ’ He thought back again, fighting furiously against the wisps of amnesia that kept creeping back. ‘They announced - I don’t know, I think that we’d be punished for attacking their people - not just for using the MIPTD on the Tyok, but for all the villages, and Tyok people that’d died. They held Spock directly responsible, because he’s my superior officer. He just - he went mad, Jim. They were reading out the list of tortures that’d be inflicted on us. I could see the hate building on Spock’s face, and he was trying to suppress it, but he couldn’t. He knocked down five of them before they could stop him, and they dragged him away. He was yelling about them almost killing T’Si, and that he wouldn’t let them kill me with their torture. I - I don’t remember anything after that, Jim. It’s all a blank.’

‘It could be a problem,’ Kirk mused. ‘I want to get Seyak up here to talk about the attacks. Spock’ll have to be there, but if he hates them so much – ’ He glanced across at Spock’s white face. ‘Then again, knowing him, he’s dealing with it right now. I know Spock, Bones. He won’t let something as destructive as hate carry on inside him.’

‘I hope not,’ McCoy said sincerely, ‘because it could destroy him, as a Vulcan.’

‘Captain.’ Spock had come out of his meditation, and was looking sideways, alertly, if with a degree of fragility. ‘Good afternoon.’

‘You look a lot better,’ Kirk commented with a smile.

‘I have recalled and analysed everything that occurred after T’Syan found us with the MIPT device,’ he said smoothly.

‘What was it, Spock?’ McCoy asked quickly. ‘I need to know as much as you did.’

‘No, Doctor,’ Spock said quickly. ‘It is best that you don’t remember.’

‘I have the right to know,’ McCoy insisted.

‘No,’ Spock said with finality. ‘Captain, do the Tyok know we are gone?’

Kirk smiled. ‘The  _Enterprise_ got a call from a very irate Seyak a few hours ago. He must’ve worked out how to use that communicator. He demanded that we return. Naturally, I refused.’

‘Of course,’ Spock nodded. ‘We will have to return eventually, however. They know more about what actually happened to the villages than we do, and I suspect they may be holding one of the actual attackers, from whom they confiscated the matter alteration device.’

‘They didn’t tell us that!’ Kirk exclaimed.

Spock pressed his lips together. ‘It is very difficult to fathom out a Tyok’s mind. Of course, it is likely that a person captured while in possession of the device would be dead now.’

‘Spock, do you hate them?’ Kirk asked bluntly, glancing at McCoy.

‘Not now,’ Spock admitted, after a brief hesitation. ‘My mind was not quite steady from the Kui-tq-ellah torture,’ he said, and closed his mouth, indicating that that was all he would say on the matter.

Kirk nodded, acknowledging Spock’s silent request for privacy.

‘Spock, I’m going to beam down to Vulcan,’ he began, ‘to speak to the authorities there – ’

‘I will come, Captain,’ Spock said instantly, sitting up a little straighter.

‘No,’ Kirk said firmly. ‘You’re hardly recovered yet. I was just saying, they’ll want to know about the survivors of Ly’Gotja. They’ll want to know about T’Si.’

Spock’s eyebrow rose momentarily.

‘Of course,’ he said slowly. ‘Yes, that must be dealt with.’

‘Well, I checked the databases, and there’s no relatives - all of them lived in the village,’ Kirk told him. ‘There’s no one to be worried about her. I – don’t have to tell the authorities yet. A slip of the mind, perhaps?’

Spock glanced briefly at Kirk, and then nodded.

‘If she is going to be adopted, I would like to find the family myself.’

‘I know. You’ve been a father and a mother to her the last few days – and a good one, too. I won’t tell them.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Spock nodded. ‘To find her a good home will take time.’

‘A long time, if he can help it,’ McCoy muttered to himself.

‘Do you have something to say, Doctor?’ Spock asked stiffly.

‘No. Nothing. I was talking to myself.’

Kirk smiled. ‘First sign of madness, Bones.’

‘Huh,’ the doctor contradicted. ‘It’s the only way of getting a sane conversation around here.’

The captain laughed, then turned to leave. ‘I’ll be back to see the both of you in a few hours, when I’ve finished down there,’ he promised. ‘Try not to kill each other, won’t you?’

******

Kirk took his seat at the head of the large table in one of  _Enterprise_ ’s briefing rooms. He glanced at Spock, who sat on his right.

‘All present, sir,’ the Vulcan reported, looking only a little shaky two days after returning from Vulcan.

‘Dr McCoy?’

‘Still in the sickbay, and protesting vehemently. I am told he should be allowed out tomorrow.’

‘I see.’

Kirk flicked his eyes around the table at the strange variety of people there. Spock, sitting with T’Si in his arms as if it were the most natural thing to do at a briefing table, Lieutenant Dempster, watching the Vulcans through narrowed eyes, Seyak, glaring at everyone and everything, especially anything mechanical, with as big an aversion to the transporter as Dr McCoy. Then T’Syan, gazing haughtily down her nose at the rest of the room.  _You meet some strange people in this business,_ Kirk thought to himself. Still, it was interesting.

Only this morning he had come onto the bridge to see the quite normal sight of his science officer working intently at his console. Then his eyes had fallen upon T’Si, hovering beside the Vulcan in a hurriedly rigged anti-grav pram (a container lined with blankets and attached to an anti-gravity unit) invented by the ever-resourceful Scotty, watching Spock’s work with thoroughly interested eyes.

‘Well.’ The captain locked his fingers together and stared down at them. ‘You all know why we’re here. Would you like to start, Spock?’

‘Yes, sir.’ He began to speak in a calm, level tone that indicated nothing of the emotional impact of what he was saying. ‘In approximately ten days, by my estimation, the village of Kha-Tjua will be attacked, and decimated, by some alien force, using a weapon developed from a Federation device. With luck, we can stop the attack, and capture the alien, thus killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.’

‘Birds can fly away,’ T’Syan pointed out stiffly. ‘And so can starships, however alien. Luck is also illogical.’

‘We’re not here to argue logic,’ Kirk interrupted.

‘Logic is always vital,’ Spock said seriously. ‘But to return to the subject, Captain. My stay in sickbay gave me time for research on this matter. Not only are these villages on a straight line - they also run along the Pusatui mountains - a range of mountains produced by the Pusatui Fault. These mountains are rich in a Vulcan metal called fhaisf’ghrm-ajiug, which – ’

‘What?’ Kirk asked, staring to see if Spock was serious.

Spock stared back at him solemnly, without even a glimmer of humour, or even friendship, in his dark eyes. He clasped his hands tighter around the baby. Kirk knew the coldness was no insult, and he tried to let Spock know he understood. He could sense the strain the Vulcan felt in the presence of T’Syan, especially with T’Si in his lap, waiting for some comment to be made about his half human breeding. He knew Spock had had to snap deep into his flawlessly Vulcan suit, and be even more Vulcan than his cousin, to avoid any criticism.

‘Fhaisf’ghrm-ajiug,’ Spock repeated slowly and clearly, with an air of saintly patience. ‘Humans usually refer to the metal as phaisarmium. Would you prefer me to use that name?’

‘It - would be easier,’ Kirk nodded.

‘The molten metal is forced up through the fault, and has been accumulating for millions of years. Villages naturally sprung up along it. It is a highly reliable source of energy, when the correct electrical currents are passed through. It was under consideration to be used in starship propulsion, until dilithium crystals were discovered.’

‘You think this metal might be one reason for all these people being killed?’

‘It is a possibility I have cogitated, along with some others, but it is dubious. Dilithium crystals are a better source of power, and phaisarmium is a relatively rare metal. Vulcan is the only planet on which it has been found.’

‘Is it valuable?’ Kirk asked.

Spock tilted his head to one side. ‘It is a quite beautiful metal. It iridesces when light falls on it, and emits faint colours in the dark, but it is extremely dense, and almost as hard as diamond. It’s used sometimes in building, and jewellery, but is not of any great value otherwise – not since the discovery of dilithium.’

‘I see,’ Kirk nodded. ‘What other possibilities have you considered?’

‘The map we studied in the Tyok caves was of a relatively small area, Captain. If that line is extended, it passes directly through the centre of Pnauh’Kmaghe, an ancient Vulcan burial monument.’

‘Pnauh’Kmaghe?’ T’Syan repeated, visibly shaken. ‘Are you certain, Spock?’

‘Positive,’ Spock confirmed, in a heavy tone. ‘I have checked and double checked, but the line dissects the tomb at its mid peak.’

‘Is it important?’ Kirk asked, noticing the eye contact between T’Syan and Spock.

‘Pnauh’Kmaghe lies two hundred kilometres south-east of the Pusatui mountain range,’ Spock began slowly. ‘It has been standing there longer than Vulcan memory. It is a tomb - a monument which stands one mile into the air at its highest point - the mid-peak. It is the burial place of ten consecutive kings of Vulcan, and their consorts, T’Pherni, T’Saan, T’Sifion, T – ’

‘Okay, Spock,’ Kirk interrupted. ‘We get the picture.’

‘After the last king and queen died, the monument was sealed, and the surface of its secrets has hardly been scratched, even by our advanced science and technology. From the meagre information gathered from the outer chambers and writings, and from stories handed down over the years, we know it is from those kings that the noble families of Vulcan are descended.’ Spock glanced at T’Syan, and she nodded. ‘It is the burial place of our distant ancestors, Jim.’

‘As in our, you mean Vulcans collectively, right?’ Kirk queried.

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I mean my family, T’Syan’s family and all our blood relatives.’

Kirk’s eyebrows rose briefly. ‘But if it were so long ago, surely most Vulcans will have some blood connection?’ he pointed out.

Spock shook his head. ‘Not necessarily. Our ancestors bred selectively, Captain. As in many royal families, people who were already related were chosen for each other. Now the families are not royal, but they are noble. They account for only 4.98% of the population.’

‘And you’re one of those 4.98%?’

‘I am.’

‘The blood is thin now,’ T’Syan pointed out. ‘Especially in those whose veins carry alien blood.’

Spock ignored the remark, and decided to drop the Vulcan veneer. Nothing would make T’Syan forget his human mother. He turned back to Kirk.

‘Jim, no one really knows what is inside that structure,’ he said, allowing his scientific fascination to creep into his voice. ‘You still have not solved all the mysteries of your pyramids on Earth. Imagine one of those pyramids, built to the size of a mountain - built by Vulcans, and with a defence system to keep every possible kind of intruder out. That is why so little is known of the interior of this structure - even whether it is solid or hollow. Hundreds of people have died trying to find a way inside. If that structure is laid open by an alien force, there is no telling what may happen. What may be released.’

‘Are you afraid of the power of the gods coming down to cut off your ears?’ Dempster laughed, then quickly added, ‘Sir.’

‘Lieutenant,’ Kirk warned, in a low voice.

‘There is no place for mockery in this room,’ Seyak said quickly. ‘Even red Vulcans were descended from the kings. My ancestors were not people to be laughed at.’

‘Your – ’ Spock began, then shrugged. ‘It is possible. He is a Sha’Vir.’

‘Then I call you cousin, too,’ T’Syan decided, bowing her head to Seyak. ‘I am honoured.’

‘We’re not here to discuss happy families,’ Kirk said impatiently. ‘Spock, are you telling me that there may be a booby trap so great in that tomb that it could even destroy Vulcan?’

Spock shook his head. ‘I am saying that no one knows what will happen. It would be illogical to create such a trap.’

‘Our ancestors were not logical,’ Seyak smiled, seeming glad of the fact. ‘They would like to see the person that disturbs their resting place be engulfed in a fire that reaches into space.’

Spock looked up sharply at this remark, and met Kirk’s eyes. ‘My ancestors were an extremely passionate people. To them it would seem a befitting end to a person who violates a tomb. In old times, grave robbers were put to death by burning.’

‘I see,’ Kirk nodded with a degree of awe. ‘Well, I suppose this tomb could have something to do with the attacks. It is in line.’

‘Why should anyone want to attack a pile of rock?’ Dempster asked with a shrug.

‘It is not a pile of rock, Lieutenant,’ Spock said firmly. ‘It is a structure of great importance to the Vulcan people. To destroy Pnauh’Kmaghe would be like destroying Earth’s pyramids, or burning every church and art collection on the planet.’

‘Does anyone else have any points to make?’ Kirk asked.

‘I have been investigating the incidents. I concur with Spock’s suggestions,’ T’Syan said unexpectedly.

‘I can think of nothing else,’ Seyak shrugged.

‘I don’t know, sir,’ Lieutenant Dempster said. ‘I can’t think of any other suggestions. Unless all these fires are some strange freak of nature.’

‘I very much doubt that. We have three possibilities - and some may link,’ Kirk concluded. ‘A - it could be a test of a new weapon, B - it could be to do with this metal, phaisarmium, which is a high source of power, or C - the object could be to tamper with Mr Spock’s monument.’

‘Pnauh’Kmaghe is every Vulcan’s monument,’ T’Syan said softly.

‘Well, we have ten days,’ Kirk decided. ‘We’ve investigated the burnt villages, there’s not much we can investigate with this metal. We may as well go see Pnow Cumag,’ he pronounced badly.

‘Permission to come along, sir?’ Dempster asked quickly.

‘No. Not this time,’ Kirk smiled. ‘I’m going alone, with Mr Spock. Sorry, Lieutenant. I know you’re interested. Spock. You ready? Do you think you’re up to it?’

‘Certainly, sir.’


	9. Chapter 9

There was a hum, and a bright shimmer of gold in the red Vulcan twilight, and two figures slowly appeared, built and solidified, until they were standing on the desert ground. Heat beat up into Kirk’s face that had been stored through the day in the glittering orange sand, but the air was noticeably cooler than it had been the last time he had beamed down into the desert.

‘Is this the place?’ Kirk asked as soon as he could move, peering into the endless desert. ‘I can’t see any monument.’

‘Turn around, Captain,’ Spock suggested, and Kirk twisted his head, then spun.

‘My God, Spock!’ he exclaimed. ‘Vulcans don’t do things by halves, do they?’

He stared up at the great towering mountain of polished black rock, and gasped, speechless. The monument rose steeply up, and up, and up, fading into the dim light. The central mass rose to a pinnacle, flanked by four smaller points around it. The stone it was made from looked as if it had been rubbed until it shone, but there were delicate patterns of white rock laced through it as though they had been painted on, remarkably similar to the Tyok tattoos.

‘The blowing sands keep it smooth and polished,’ Spock commented quietly. ‘It is impressive, is it not, Jim?’

‘To say the least,’ Kirk nodded. ‘I was expecting a ruin, or something less - imposing. You say this was built by your earliest ancestors?’

‘The earliest _civilised_ ancestors,’ Spock corrected him. ‘But we know very little about them - their legends and way of life. It is virtually a lost part of our history.’

‘But how did they build it? I mean, it’s staggering!’

‘As with the pyramids of Earth - no one can be certain. It would seem impossible, but here is the evidence.’

‘Yes,’ was the best Kirk could manage, his eyes fixed on the towering walls.

He reached out a hand to touch the stone, but Spock grabbed his wrist and pulled it back quickly.

‘Look, Captain.’ Spock fumbled in the grass that grew in the great tomb’s shade, and found a stone. ‘See this?’

He showed Kirk the round, ochre coloured pebble, then he threw it at the structure. Immediately there was a hiss, and a crackle of blue spread down rapidly from the highest peak, for a second covering the whole building. The Vulcan knocked Kirk aside as the pebble bounced back, glowing red hot.

‘That’s some defence system,’ Kirk laughed nervously, stepping back two paces.

Spock waited a moment, then picked the warm pebble from the singed grass. He closed his hand on it, and let a trickle of dust float to the ground. He turned to Kirk, and showed him the brittle black sand that had been the stone.

‘You see why so little is known about the structure, and why so few have touched it without being killed?’

‘Yes. Phew.’ He rubbed his damp palms on his top, and looked up at Spock again. ‘It did all that for just a pebble. If someone were to launch a full scale attack on this place - ’

‘Precisely, Captain.’

‘Where does it get all that energy from? How did Vulcans so ancient design a defence system that’d still be effective now? How did they even build the thing?’

‘Those are just a fraction of the questions asked about Pnauh’Kmaghe, Jim. Almost all of those questions still lie unsolved. It is very likely that the phaisarmium plays a large part in powering the defences, but we have no idea how it was utilised, or how they had such sophisticated methods so early in Vulcan history. Practically the most we can say for certain, is that it is there.’

‘It’s very definitely there.’ Kirk gazed up at the white lines and curves that covered the whole building. ‘And those patterns. They’re like the tattoos on the Tyok.’

‘They are remarkably similar. A fraction has been deciphered, but the majority is still a mystery. The Tyok may have a better knowledge of their meaning - unless they simply copied the tattoos without understanding them. We know that some of the patterns speak of a curse, but we have barely scratched the surface of this thing. The people who reached the outer chambers reported that there were more writings there, and pictures were sent out, but none of the explorers emerged alive.’

‘Did they emerge dead?’ Kirk asked curiously. ‘Did you see them?’

‘I did happen to be present, Captain,’ Spock nodded. ‘I was on what you would term a school field trip. A team of nine Vulcan scientists and historians - some of our best minds – gained entry, wearing insulation suits against the electricity. Using sophisticated devices they located the outermost chambers, found the secret doors, and relayed their films of the interior. They had mentioned that they were proceeding to the next set of rooms, when all visual contact failed. We heard their descriptions of the connecting passages. They were about to open the doors to the secondary chambers when their light failed. We heard – ’ Spock cleared his throat, looking faintly apologetic about what he was about to say. ‘We heard cries of terror - and something that did not sound Vulcan - then all sound went dead. An hour later one body fell from an opening high up in the walls. It was burnt, mutilated - barely recognisable. Another hour, and a second body was expelled. Nine hours later, we had every body back, each mutilated worse than the last.’

‘Spock.’ Kirk realised that he was gripping the Vulcan’s arm tightly, and let go quickly, trying to regain his dignity. He looked up at the darkening sky. ‘This is hardly the place for a horror story.’

‘I apologise, Captain, but you did ask me to elaborate.’

‘Let’s just get back to the ship, okay?’

‘Certainly, if you are alarmed, sir,’ Spock nodded, watching the captain with a concerned gaze.

‘I’m not alarmed - just - ’ The captain tried to steady his shaking arms. ‘It gets cold fast here at night, doesn’t it?’ He grabbed convulsively at his communicator and opened it. ‘Kirk to _Enterprise_. We’re ready to beam up, Scotty.’ The radio crackled back static at him. ‘Kirk to _Enterprise_ ,’ he repeated. ‘ _Enterprise_ , do you read me?’

A high pitched whine shrilled out of the device, followed by a noise that sounded horribly like a laugh.

‘Scotty, this is no time for jokes,’ Kirk snapped. ‘Beam us up now.’

There was a loud screaming noise, and the captain grabbed Spock’s arms as the transporter beam caught them. Spock led Kirk down from the transporter anxiously, snapping to Scott;

‘Dr M’Benga.’

‘Aye, sir,’ the man nodded, and called quickly through the intercom for a doctor to attend the transporter room.

‘Captain.’ Spock prised Kirk’s hands from his arms. ‘Are you quite all right?’

The captain seemed dazed for a moment, then looked into Spock’s face. He looked haunted, and his entire body was shaking.

‘I’m - fine, Spock,’ he said, making an effort to control himself. ‘Spock… Did you - see that, Spock?’

‘See what, Captain?’

Spock looked around the small transporter room, but everything seemed completely normal.

Kirk shook his head vigorously. ‘No. Not here. Down on Vulcan.’

‘What did you think you saw, sir?’ Spock asked carefully.

‘I didn’t _think_. I did see - I don’t know. Nothing, or something. Spock - ’

‘Sit down, Jim,’ Spock said gently. ‘You’ve had a fright.’

‘I haven’t,’ Kirk insisted. ‘I just saw - that - ’

‘Sir, what was that you were saying about jokes?’ Scott asked Kirk curiously, coming over to him.

‘You heard me?’ he asked his engineer. ‘There was static, then the communicator started producing strange noises. I couldn’t hear you.’

‘There was no problem up here, sir,’ Scott said, sounding apologetic. ‘But I could check the communicators.’

Kirk waved a hand dismissively. ‘No... No, Scotty. That’s okay. I’m sure it was static - until it laughed.’

‘Captain, maybe I should escort you to the sickbay,’ the Vulcan suggested.

‘I am not crazy,’ Kirk snapped, stepping away from him as McCoy came through the door. ‘Bones, tell him I’m not crazy. He thinks I’m crazy.’

‘Should you not be confined to bed, Doctor?’ Spock asked McCoy with a raised eyebrow. ‘I called for M’Benga.’

‘Oh, I discharged myself,’ McCoy said quickly. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. Now – what’s wrong with Jim?’

‘I think the captain should be given a medical examination,’ Spock told the doctor quietly. ‘He has had quite a fright.’

‘Spock! Bones,’ Kirk protested. ‘I did see – oh…’ He shook his head in frustration. ‘Never mind. But I’m okay, Bones. No need to check me over.’

He caught a hard glance between the two men, and almost decided to begin shouting again. Then he shrugged, feeling it would be easier to let them think he was co-operating.

‘Okay. I guess it wouldn’t hurt,’ he shrugged. ‘But it was only Spock telling me ghost stories. Doc, are you sure you’re well enough to be up?’ he asked. ‘You look a little pale there.’

‘I’m absolutely fine,’ McCoy promised him, although it was obvious that he was still suffering.

‘Bones,’ Kirk groaned.

‘I’m perfectly well, or else I wouldn’t be here,’ McCoy insisted. He put his hand firmly on Kirk’s arm. ‘Come on, Jim. And you too, Spock. Let’s go down to sickbay and get this checked out.’

******

‘Well?’

Kirk sat up from the cushioned black table, and stared at the doctor accusingly. McCoy stepped back from the examination table and considered his readings, while Spock stood placidly beside him, waiting. Then the doctor looked up again.

‘Jim, that was no plain fright. There’s indications of neurological trauma, induced by – Well, by God knows what.’

‘There was a noise, like a terrible screaming,’ Kirk remembered. ‘That’s what scared me, but it was only a noise, Bones. I don’t know why it scared me in the way that it did.’

‘Hang on.’ He ran the scanner past Spock, then past Kirk again. ‘You’ve both been affected, but Spock’s disciplines automatically told him fear was illogical. It’s as if you were both scared stiff, only Spock didn’t know.’

‘I do not follow,’ Spock said with interest.

‘The readings state that in both of you your pulse quickened, there was a sudden release of adrenaline. You both experienced the physical reactions to a sudden fright, but whatever it was didn’t so much scare you because it was frightening, but because it was designed to trigger all the fright responses.’

‘Vulcans are logical,’ Kirk pointed out. ‘You can’t scare them. Spock just proved that.’

‘But the ones who built Pnauh’Kmaghe were not logical,’ Spock corrected him.

‘Where?’ McCoy asked, his brow furrowing at the odd name.

‘An ancient Vulcan monument. We had beamed down to investigate it,’ Spock told him. ‘That is where Captain Kirk gained his artificially induced fright.’

‘Imagine the Egyptian pyramids times ten,’ Kirk suggested. ‘Then you’ve got the grave of Spock’s ancestors.’

‘Spock’s ancestors?’ McCoy asked, looking from one to the other before bringing himself back to the pertinent subject. ‘You think it’s got something to do with the attacks on Vulcan villages?’

‘It is a possibility,’ Spock confirmed. ‘It is on the line drawn through all the villages attacked. It is the last structure at the end of that line.’

‘But what about the strange noises the communicator was making?’ Kirk asked. ‘Perhaps you can explain an induced chemical reaction, but the communicator laughed at me, Spock, when I saw that thing.’

‘I do not know about your ‘thing’, Captain, but the electrical fields put out by the structure would account for the static.’

‘Spock, I swear - it laughed at me,’ Kirk insisted. ‘When I saw that thing. It was not static.’

Spock stared deep into his captain’s eyes. He knew Kirk wasn’t the sort of person to believe in ghosts or demons – or curses, or ‘things’.

‘Jim, I believe that you think the communicator made the noise of laughter - I heard the noise too,’ he said carefully. ‘There has been very convincing evidence of the existence of curses, and some people have died in very bizarre circumstances, but I do not believe that noise to have been anything other than an electrical fault, perhaps instigated somehow by the structure’s defences. It was getting dark down there, and as you said, I had been telling you are rather chilling tale. Imagination is a powerful thing.’

‘Spock - ’

‘Captain, may I suggest that you rest for a while,’ Spock said softly. ‘I can handle the bridge.’

‘Spock, I am perfectly all right,’ Kirk protested. ‘And I know that that noise was not made by my communicator.’

‘Jim, I’ve never seen you like this,’ McCoy said gently. ‘You really should do as Spock says. Take a rest.’

‘I - am - fine,’ Kirk said slowly, and he turned and marched out of the room.

‘Fascinating,’ Spock murmured, staring at the empty doorway. ‘Doctor, the captain was behaving extremely irrationally.’

‘You’re telling me,’ McCoy nodded. ‘You know, I think he firmly believes he saw something down there.’

‘Jim does not usually ‘see’ things.’

McCoy turned to him. ‘Spock, did you see  _anything_ ? Even a shadow he could mistake for something?’

Spock shook his head firmly. ‘I saw nothing. It is not what he saw that concerns me. It is his unshakeable belief that the communicator laughed at him, and his fierce protection of that theory.’

‘In the half light, when you’re already nervous, some things can seem pretty real.’

‘Yes, I had already stated that,’ Spock nodded. ‘But surely now, in the safety of the _Enterprise_ , he would realise the foolishness of his claim? Is it possible that effects still linger from the reaction induced in the captain on the planet surface?’

McCoy shook his head. ‘I read the signs of previously induced fear. There was no sign that it was still acting on him. I suppose – couldn’t it really have been something other than the communicator?’

‘Doctor,’ Spock said in a tone of disappointment. ‘I did not expect you to believe in ghosts and goblins.’

‘I don’t, and Jim never has. But you said yourself - he doesn’t usually see things. The only other explanation is that he’s going crazy.’

‘The captain is sane as you and I,’ Spock said stiffly, and left the doctor in his office.

He began to make his way to the bridge, deep in thought, then he abruptly turned back towards the officers’ quarters. His buzz at the captain’s door was answered, as he had expected.

‘Well, Spock?’ Kirk asked grumpily, as he gestured him in.

‘Sir?’

Kirk turned his palms to the ceiling. ‘I’m not going mad – am I, Spock?’

‘I believe not, Jim,’ Spock said in a kind voice. ‘Nor do I believe you are suffering from stress, or any other factor known to cause hallucinations. I am ready to acknowledge that you may have seen something down there – and heard something.’

‘You come down there with me, and I’ll prove it to you, Spock,’ Kirk said quickly.

‘I believe it would be wise to wait until daylight on my planet.’

‘Yes.’ Kirk scratched his ear, turning back to his desk. ‘I suppose it would be best to sleep on it, too.’

‘I think so. I’m sorry, sir.’ Spock turned his head towards his own rooms. ‘T’Si is crying.’

‘Hang on.’ Kirk turned on his intercom, and the noise of crying suddenly became louder. ‘Bring her through here, yeoman,’ he ordered, and a few seconds later Yeoman Rand came in, joggling the baby as it screamed.

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ she said to Spock. ‘She just won’t stop crying. I’ve tried everything…’

‘Thank you,’ Spock said quickly. ‘I will take her. You can go.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said quickly, passing the baby over to him.

Spock got the distinct impression that although the woman wanted very much to like babies, in practice looking after them was not as easy as she had imagined. T’Si immediately began to calm once she was in his arms.

Kirk waited until the woman was gone, then turned to Spock.

‘There’s nothing like a mother to calm a baby,’ he said mischievously.

‘She is two months old, and a Vulcan baby. She is teething, and when I hold her I can help her to suppress the pain,’ Spock said coldly. ‘We were speaking of what you saw by the monument. What was it exactly, that you saw?’

‘I - don’t know,’ Kirk shook his head. ‘It was blurred - confused. I thought it was a person - a big person - a head taller than you and me, pointed ears. He was wearing some kind of dark robe.’

‘Jim, would you come with me?’ Spock asked.

He went through into his own rooms, followed by Kirk. He put T’Si in her crib, then opened the door to his wardrobe and looked through it, selecting a long black robe. He put it on, and turned back to Kirk.

‘Did he look somewhat like this?’

‘Yes.’ Kirk reached out to touch the rich black material and purple embroidery. Spock seemed to have suddenly changed from his familiar first officer to an even taller, even more dignified, imposing stranger. ‘That’s what it looked like. Something like that. But I’ve never seen that gown before, Spock.’

‘It is a ceremonial robe,’ Spock explained. ‘It is worn occasionally at official Vulcan ceremonies, such as marriage outside the pon farr. It is what I will wear when I am laid to rest.’

‘A funeral robe?’

‘In the end, yes. It is what the kings in the tomb would have worn.’

Spock selected an old book from a shelf, and opened it very carefully. The pages were cracked and yellowed, and moved stiffly as Spock turned them. Each leaf was full of beautiful Vulcan writings, hand penned, but Spock turned to one of the faded hand-painted illustrations that had once been colourful.

‘Did you see one of these men, Jim? Please do not touch the book. It is very fragile.’

Kirk studied the picture of ten tall, regal looking Vulcan men, all wearing robes identical to Spock’s. Then he pointed at one, letting his finger hover above the page.

‘It was him, Spock,’ he said firmly, staring hard at the third man along. ‘It was definitely him.’

‘Fascinating,’ Spock said with feeling. ‘That was Suaniak, Jim, the last king to die. He was murdered, by a tribe leader who was jealous of the powerful kings. Suaniak’s wife had given him only daughters, and that is how that line of Vulcan kings came to an end. There were others, of course, but never as important or powerful as the kings of Pnauh’Kmaghe.’

‘How did he die?’

‘As I have said, we are widely ignorant of the history of Pnauh’Kmaghe. It is rumoured Suaniak was killed by slow poison. He had time to realise he was dying - to order the slaying of his wife, slaves and animals. Usually, if the king died suddenly, the wife would, quite understandably, escape to some secret location, to avoid her own death. If the king knew his death was imminent, he would order all his live properties to be held in a prison until his death, when they would be slain.’

‘Unfortunate if you were one of his employees.’

‘Slaves,’ Spock corrected. ‘Indeed, Captain. My ancestors did have some illogical customs.’

‘Such as laying curses on their graves?’

‘Yes,’ he nodded disapprovingly. ‘Although they hardly need a curse, with their defence system. I should leave you to rest, sir,’ he said, shouldering the rode off his arms and putting it back carefully in the closet. ‘As I said, I will take over on the bridge.’

‘Sure you’re well enough, after what the Tyok did to you?’

‘Of course, sir. It is no strain to command the bridge. It is a quiet shift.’

‘With the baby, Spock?’

‘She will create no trouble, Captain.’

‘Okay,’ Kirk said reluctantly. ‘I suppose it’ll be all right. And thank you, Spock - for believing me, in the end.’

‘Please do not mention it, Jim.’

Spock watched Kirk go back through the bathroom into his own quarters, then he left for the bridge.

******

McCoy opened Spock’s door to the unusual sound of a Vulcan lyre accompanied by a low, crooning song. Mystified, he tiptoed silently forward, until he could see round the corner into Spock’s sleeping area. The Vulcan was sat in his large wooden chair, with T’Si cradled in one arm, the lyre in the other, while he played and sang softly. The doctor stayed hidden until the song was over, then he came around the corner, grinning widely.

‘Spock, I didn’t know you had it in you!’

The Vulcan looked up, and a look of ferocity came across his face before he could mask it.

‘Singing lullabies?’ McCoy asked.

Spock put the lyre on his bed, then carefully laid T’Si in her crib, tucking her under a blanket. He took McCoy by the elbow and led him roughly into the living area.

‘You should not simply burst in without knocking,’ he said sternly. ‘I leave my door unlocked as a symbol of trust. I do not expect to have that trust abused.’

‘I buzzed, but I don’t think you could hear,’ the doctor dug at him. ‘I didn’t know Vulcans sang lullabies. Aren’t they a bit sentimental?’

‘Only as sentimental as the words in them. Many of our songs are sung for tradition, not for the actual meaning, Doctor.’

‘I didn’t even know you _did_ sing, Spock.’

‘There is much you do not know about me,’ Spock informed him stiffly. ‘And I am perfectly satisfied with that situation. I was simply soothing T’Si to sleep.’

‘Of course,’ McCoy grinned. ‘Mind you,’ he shrugged. ‘I’ve always thought that someone who can play music must have some soul. You can’t be all bad, Spock.’

‘If I am to take that as a compliment, then thank you,’ Spock said without sincerity in his tone. ‘I would be grateful if you would keep your voice low, Doctor. I do not wish the baby to wake again. What do you want?’

‘To check you over. See how those wounds are repairing themselves.’

‘They are doing just that. Repairing themselves. I need no examination.’

‘I saw the way you put T’Si in her cradle. It still hurts to bend your back.’

‘Yes, I do still have some bruises,’ Spock admitted. ‘And pain in some areas. But I suspect that you are hurt worse than I am, now.’

‘Hmm.’ McCoy held out his scanner towards him. ‘Take your top off. Doctor’s orders, Mr Spock.’

Spock raised an eyebrow, then decided it would be easier to comply with McCoy’s wishes than have him call the captain down to make it a formal order. He hung his blue top over a chair, and McCoy examined the fading scars on his back, chest and arms. The Vulcan winced as the doctor probed a few of the bruises with his fingers.

‘Doctor, refrain from purposefully attempting to annoy me,’ he requested stiffly.

‘Afraid I might succeed? You’ll do,’ he muttered. ‘You can go back to singing lullabies now.’

‘The baby is asleep now,’ Spock said smoothly. ‘There is no need.’

‘I take it Jim convinced you he wasn’t crazy?’

Spock’s eyebrow rose. ‘I was never under the impression that the captain was in any way insane.’

‘He got you worried. He told me he saw the image of the tenth of your kings.’

‘I believe that he did - see the image,’ Spock said cautiously. ‘I will investigate, of course.’

McCoy wandered over to Spock’s desk, and picked up a few large sheets of paper that were slightly rippled from water drying on them. He flicked through them appreciatively. He saw painted sketches of Sha’Vir Seyak’s office, some cave paintings, and the Tyok people and their surroundings, drawn with remarkable accuracy.

‘You do these?’ the doctor asked.

‘I did,’ Spock nodded. ‘We had no instruments to record the Tyok’s domain, so I was compelled to draw them.’

‘They’re good, Spock. You’re a dark horse. I didn’t know you were an artist as well as a singer.’ He remembered the lyre. ‘And a musician too. You must have a romantic soul.’

Spock heard the gentle taunting in McCoy’s tone.

‘It does not take an artist, nor a romantic soul, Doctor, to draw what one sees. To be an artist, one requires creative imagination. I simply recalled the rooms and their dimensions - the mathematical configurations - then reproduced them on paper.’

‘Trust you to bring maths into art, Spock,’ McCoy grunted.

_Can’t this Vulcan take the credit for anything he does?_ he thought to himself,  _instead of always throwing compliments back in your face_ . 

‘Then what’s this?’ he asked, pulling out a hard piece of board that was covered in a half painted picture coloured in bright reds and oranges.

‘An abstract representation of a scene near my childhood home on Vulcan,’ Spock said tartly, taking the still wet picture carefully and replacing it behind the desk.

‘You had a childhood?’ McCoy asked with disbelief, then continued. ‘So what else do you do, Spock? What other hidden talents are you concealing behind those pointed ears?’

‘I also play the pianoforte, violin, organ, clarinet, and flute to a reasonable standard. Also a number of Vulcan instruments you would not recognise. I am qualified in the crafts of wood and metal, I speak numerous languages, and I could recite you every work of Shakespeare, in English _or_ Vulcan.’

McCoy rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. ‘Why did I ask?’ he muttered, still unable to tell whether the Vulcan was absolutely serious or not.

Spock bore the doctor’s glare with saintly tolerance, until the man had to look away. ‘Did you require something else, Doctor?’ Spock asked. ‘I was about to retire to bed.’

‘I did wonder if you were any closer to finding out the truth about those villages.’

‘There are a number of options we are considering. If you read the report I have filed you can inform yourself, Doctor.’

McCoy refused to be put off. ‘You’re going back down to your monument tomorrow, aren’t you?’

‘I am,’ Spock answered, as he donned his shirt again.

‘I thought I might come.’

‘I think not,’ Spock said with something like smugness, as he ushered the doctor out of the door. ‘You won’t have time, Doctor. You’ll be extremely busy tomorrow.’

‘Doing what? I know my schedule. I’ve got the time to come down to see your Vulcan’s graveyard.’

‘You, Dr McCoy, will be babysitting. Goodnight.’


	10. Chapter 10

Captain Kirk, Spock, Ensign Pavel Chekov and Lieutenant Dempster materialised slowly by the southern face of the huge Vulcan monument of Pnauh’Kmaghe. As soon as the transporter allowed him to move, Chekov’s jaw dropped in awe, but Lieutenant Dempster simply regarded the structure with critical disdain.

‘Seems an awful waste of time, if you ask me,’ he said as he looked up at the mountain-like structure. ‘It must have taken years to build.’

‘It was only finished after the last king died,’ Spock informed him. ‘Each king held a reign of approximately one hundred Earth years.’

‘You mean it took ten _hundred_ years to build?’ Chekov asked in a small voice.

‘That is what legend, and logic, dictates, Ensign. It is awesome.’

‘Yes. It is, sir. Wery awesome.’ He grinned. ‘Ve have something like this in Russia, as a matter of fact. It is called - ’

‘You do not,’ Spock interrupted, ‘have any such structure in Russia, nor even on Earth, or on any other planet known to the Federation. And that is a fact, Ensign.’

‘Oh, I did not mean Russia, Earth, sir,’ Chekov said with a shrug. ‘I vas speaking of New Russia. It is a small continent on - ’

‘Okay, Ensign, we believe you,’ Kirk cut in. ‘Show them the defence system, Spock,’ he smiled. ‘It’s pretty impressive,’ he warned the others. ‘So keep back.’

Spock nodded, and picked up a fist-sized stone, hurling it at the building. Nothing happened. The stone bounced back off the monument’s black wall as solid and cold as it always had been. Chekov looked disappointed at the anti-climax.

‘Is that it?’ he asked with a shrug.

‘Strange,’ Spock muttered, raising an eyebrow.

He activated his tricorder to record the events, then moved along a metre, and threw the stone again. This time the building produced its bright blue display of electricity, and the stone turned to black sand.

‘There seems to be a flaw in the system,’ he said to Kirk with interest. He picked up another stone. ‘Maybe I could determine how large the flaw is.’

By throwing more stones, he gradually marked out an area over two metres high and one wide that was untouched by the force field.

‘Like a door, Spock,’ Kirk realised. ‘Maybe a bit tall - ’

‘A Vulcan door,’ Spock pointed out. ‘It is the correct height. Vulcans were taller in the past, Captain, when the planet had more resources and better land.’

Spock stepped forward slowly, keeping his arm extended before him.

‘Spock, you’re not going to touch it,’ Kirk said in a low voice.

‘I do not believe it will hurt me,’ Spock said in an abstracted, intrigued tone.

His fingers touched the surface lightly, and no shock came down from the peak of the monument to incinerate him. He pressed harder, then laid his palm flat on the stone.

‘It is safe, Captain,’ he said finally.

‘Mr Spock!’

Ensign Chekov’s shrill warning echoed off the dark walls as he jerked the Vulcan back by his arm. A low grating noise had set up somewhere inside the structure, and slowly the unprotected section of stone slid aside, to reveal a deep, inky-black recess in the rock.

‘It seems you’ve found the way in everyone’s been searching so hard for,’ Kirk said quietly.

‘It would seem so,’ Spock agreed, only mildly ruffled.

His eyes glinted with Vulcan curiosity, and Kirk could see he was only restraining himself with difficulty from asking if he could go through the mysterious door.

‘This is fascinating, Captain,’ he enthused. ‘I would even go as far to say it is amazing.’

Kirk smiled weakly, hating to act as the responsible parent when he could see the Vulcan’s curiosity so aroused.

‘I know, Spock. It’s a pity we can’t go in.’

‘We can’t, sir?’ Spock asked, barely hiding his disappointment. ‘Captain, if this door were to close - ’

‘With us inside.’ Kirk ended Spock’s sentence in a very different from the meaning the Vulcan had intended. ‘We can’t risk going in now, without any kind of protection.’

Spock edged towards the hole a minute distance, trying hard to see what lay within.

‘Captain, if I were to just - ’

‘No, Spock,’ Kirk insisted. ‘I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to be satisfied with the honour of being the first to find this door. We’ll contact the authorities, but _Enterprise_ is involved with saving these villages. We haven’t time for archaeological explorations.’

The captain quickly put his hand on Spock’s arm as he saw him sidle forward again, not putting it past the Vulcan to slip by when his attention was diverted. He had seen the Vulcan forego duty and discipline before, disobeying orders, and even going as far as knocking people out to follow a cause he believed in, whether scientific or semi-religious - and this was both.

‘But I suppose it is fitting,’ the captain told him. ‘For you to open it, I mean, since you’re their distant descendant.’

‘Captain,’ Dempster snapped abruptly, staring at something that seemingly only he could see high up on the monument. ‘Sir, something’s happening.’

‘Spock, let’s get out of here,’ Kirk decided quickly.

‘I can’t move, Captain,’ Spock said calmly. ‘My legs are as lead. I cannot move them.’

‘No.’ Kirk tried to move his feet. ‘Nor can I!’

‘Sir!’ Chekov exclaimed, panic edging his voice.

The roots of grass around them began to rip, and the ground that the small group stood on began to revolve, taking them smoothly inside the great monument. Even as the door closed, Spock was adjusting his tricorder to scan and record in the dark.

‘Great. We’re trapped,’ Kirk said sarcastically, finding his legs moved now.

‘Unfortunate.’

That word was undoubtedly spoken by Spock.

‘Unfortunate?’ Dempster exploded. ‘We’re trapped inside your precious monument, and - ’

‘Lieutenant,’ Kirk said quietly, in a tone of absolute authority, and the man fell silent.

‘The air is fresh, Captain,’ Spock commented. ‘There must be a ventilation system.’

‘Damn ventilation systems!’ Kirk snapped, as the door grated completely closed.

The blackness was suddenly total, until Spock found the right button on his tricorder. A small beam of light stabbed the darkness, and Spock turned a dial to widen it until it lit up the tiny room.

‘Ventilation systems may be very important if we are trapped in here, sir,’ Spock said seriously. ‘It takes considerably less time to suffocate than to die of hunger.’

‘Personally, I’d rather suffocate than die a long death, Spock,’ Kirk said dryly.

‘We are moving, sir,’ Spock stated, consulting the tricorder. ‘We are being propelled upwards at quite a rate. This is some kind of elevator.’

‘An elewator?’ Chekov repeated. ‘I thought this thing vas thousands of years old, sir?’

‘It is,’ Spock confirmed. ‘This is most interesting.’

‘Very,’ Dempster agreed dryly, as the small room jerked to an abrupt stop. Kirk glanced at Spock as doors opened, and they walked out into a huge gallery. Chekov jumped nervously as there was a grating noise, then an ear-shattering crash as a stone slab slid down to block off the door.

‘It would seem we are trapped,’ Spock observed calmly. ‘This is certainly most unfortunate.’

‘Well, you got your wish,’ Lieutenant Dempster muttered. ‘Now you’re certain of a chance to explore this place.’

Kirk sighed. He was beginning to get tired of the man’s sarcastic comments, and his way of blaming every nasty event on another person.

‘I had no desire to become imprisoned in here,’ Spock said sharply, his dark eyes narrowing. ‘And it would do you well to remember who your superior officers are, Lieutenant.’

Spock regarded the man evenly. He was beginning to suspect there was more than simple arrogance in his belligerent comments. It seemed almost in-built to the man.

Dempster glared at him. ‘Respectfully, sir, if you hadn’t fooled around outside this place, we wouldn’t be trapped in here.’

‘There’s no point in arguing over who was responsible,’ Kirk said firmly. ‘It’s happened now.’ He looked forward into the room. ‘Light!’ he exclaimed, as the fact hit him. ‘Spock, it’s light in here.’

He searched for windows, but he could see neither windows nor any other light source. The room was simply, inexplicably, light.

‘This place obviously makes use of electricity from somewhere, and perhaps sophisticated lighting panels,’ Spock said distractedly. His attention was on the walls and the ceiling twenty metres above. He stared at the patterns and pictures that covered them. ‘These are much like the friezes in Earth’s Egyptian tombs, Captain, only very much more sophisticated. They show the customary rituals of Vulcan life, from birth to death. This slab here.’ He indicated a series of pictures that came down from the beautiful, jewel studded ceiling. ‘These are the main ceremonies. Celebration of birth, of coming of age, then of marriage, of the procreation of children, and finally of death, and the reincarnation into a new life.’ He went forward to touch the wall. ‘They appear to be gold, melted and cast into grooves in the stone.’

‘Do you understand this writing?’ Kirk asked him, pointing to a ceiling-to-floor slab of stone that was covered in strange symbols.

‘Ancient Vulcan,’ Spock said slowly. He peered up at the top of the slab, then stepped closer, touching the symbols with reverent fingers.

‘It looks almost like hieroglyphics,’ Kirk said.

‘In the literal sense, they are indeed sacred carvings – but they are not pictures, sir. This is the more complicated form of Vulcan - the one used by the higher classes. The language now is simpler - a combination of the lower and higher strains. But this - There are not letters as such. Each word is a figure in its own right. The smaller columns are read down, and the wide, main columns are read from the bottom to the top, left to right, then right to left.’ He stared at them for a while, then closed his eyes as he pondered on what he had seen. ‘I – believe I can read it.’ He stared intently at the first line. ‘There is the problem of archaisms as well as some unfamiliar word-forms. If I translate directly, it will seem like old English, so I shall - update it.’

‘Fine. Just tell us what it says,’ Kirk urged.

Spock took in a breath, his eyes fixed intently on the writing.

‘ _And Khoseas -_ Khoseas was a god of darkness, Captain. _Khoseas took a burning star in the palm of his hand, and he closed his fist over it, creating a great hole in space._ Ancient Vulcans believed black holes existed because a star had been stolen from its place in heaven,’ he commented. He glanced around briefly at the walls. ‘This story must be continued from elsewhere, Captain. _He pressed his fhaisf’ghrm-ajiug -_ phaisarmium, denoting great strength _\- fingers over its fires, and wrung every drop of orange brightness from it until it was as small as half a star. Now the star was cold and dead, and he took it and divided it and made it into the planets -_

‘Jim, this is an ancient Vulcan story of creation!’ he said in amazement. ‘This is quite fascinating!’

‘All right, Spock,’ Kirk nodded impatiently. He rarely saw Spock so animated. ‘Carry on!’

Spock nodded, his eyes turning back to the writing as if magnetised.

‘ _And Khoseua -_ that was the god of light and life _\- caught the drops of fire that Khoseas spilt, then took a small star, and gave it the fire stolen from Khoseas, and stretched it until it was larger than the largest of stars, and breathed upon it, and it glowed with an eternal power of warmth and light. This light gave the dim planets such joy, that one was chosen to bear life, and the sun shot forth bursts of molten fire, creating hot seas and dry lands wherever they fell. Then the cool fingers of Khoseas touched the earth, creating oases of trees and grass. One tree in each garden dropped seeds given to them by Khoseua. Some were washed to the seas, and created the sea creatures. Some stayed on the ground, creating land beasts. Some were blown into the air by the wind, and created birds and flying mammals. The largest tree in the largest oasis dropped a hundred seeds on the ground, creating a hundred Vulcan people - the children of the Gods, led by Syeniuk and his consort, T’Pysian. And Syeniuk was the first of the ten kings that would rule Vulcan, until a new way was found._

‘Jim, this was written before even the first king was heard of,’ Spock said in amazement. He scanned the letters again with his tricorder. ‘This gold is too old to have even been placed there by Syeniuk or his consort, T’Pysian.’

‘You mean, that this thing vas built, and that vas written before any of the kings existed, Mr Spock?’ Chekov asked shakily.

‘I am saying that this room was built, and the text was written before the first king existed, Mr Chekov,’ Spock corrected him severely. ‘Each king was the son of the one before, and the building was not finished until after their deaths.’

‘Which proves the story of creation to be a pack of lies,’ Dempster put in. ‘Because it said this Syeniuk led the first hundred Vulcans - and how could he have if the story was written before he was born?’

‘Stories of creation are never reliable, Lieutenant,’ Spock told him patiently. ‘There were merely ways to glorify the gods, and explain what many cannot explain. The names of the sons are listed here, Captain,’ he told Kirk, ‘along with their place in the family. Their entire futures are predicted - and are flawlessly accurate. There are many names listed here. Names and dates. Thousands. No!’ he said abruptly. ‘It must something else. But...’

‘But what?’ Kirk asked.

Spock was staring at the writing, peering close in rapt fascination.

‘There is my name here, and it does not seem to be coincidence. The dates are correct - to the day. There is my father’s name, my grandparent’s, great-grandparents. My mother - there is no name there - just a blank gap where it should be written. With my name below it, and - ’

‘And?’ Kirk prompted him.

‘My children,’ Spock said rather quietly, as if he were reading a gravestone. ‘Beneath, it must be my children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. The dates they were - will be - born, the dates they will die. My - my date of death seems uncertain …’

‘I don’t think you should look at that, Spock,’ Kirk said, taking his arm and firmly turning him away from it.

‘Captain, I am related to the ten kings,’ Spock told him, pointedly turning his back to the names. ‘My grandmother and grandfather both are, as are their parents, and as far back as I can trace. And all their names have been listed here in writing older than the first king. The names of every relative – ones I know, ones I have never heard of...’

‘Either someone set up an elaborate plan of these people’s futures, and made sure they stuck to it, or they had a damn good fortune teller,’ Kirk said firmly.

‘I would say the latter must be more likely, if anyone can believe either of those ideas,’ Spock said reluctantly. ‘No one could have read this since the tomb was sealed - no one who lived now could force every person on this planet to marry certain people, to call their children certain names.’

‘Do you think it says anything about our uncertain futures?’ Dempster asked, stepping back as if to take in the writings better.

‘I doubt it,’ Kirk laughed. ‘Spock’s the only relative here. Why do you ask, Lieutenant? Are you feeling apprehensive?’

‘Oh, no,’ the man said lightly, slipping his hand down to his hip. ‘It’s just that if there is, you really should read it, because it could warn you of this.’ At the word, this, he brought up his phaser, set to kill. ‘Too late, I guess. Never mind. They say you can’t change fate. I suggest that you all put your phasers and communicators on the ground. I suppose you can keep the tricorder, Mr Spock.’

Kirk stayed motionless. ‘I’d like you to explain, Lieutenant.’

‘And I’d like you to give up your weapons.’ He glanced at Spock. ‘Unless you’d like your Vulcan friend vaporised.’

‘Don’t be a fool, Dempster,’ Kirk growled, but he threw the devices at the man’s feet, and motioned for the others to do the same. ‘There’s nowhere you can go. I know all this gold may seem tempting, but you wouldn’t get an mile from the building.’

‘Oh, how mercenary humans are. It’s not the gold,’ Dempster laughed. ‘Actually, my name is Dfemuistyr. Commander Dfemuistyr. Not of Starfleet. Of the Royal Space and Warfare Section of the planet Pzyioma. I doubt you’d have heard of it. It’s a long way from your Federation of Planets, from the Klingon Empire. Even the Romulans have never heard of us. As I was saying. It’s not the gold I’m interested in. It’s this pretty-coloured, valueless, according to Mr Spock, metal called phaisarmium.’

‘The phaisarmium?’ Kirk repeated. ‘But why?’

‘It was so amusing to see you fussing so much over a few tiny villages being destroyed. To see Mr Spock so concerned over that baby that will be dead in a few days. It was hard to keep myself from laughing when I thought of how trivial those villages would seem soon.’

‘What, exactly, do you mean?’ Spock asked coldly.

‘I mean, Mr Science Officer, that your planet is going to be our base for launching a simultaneous attack on your United Federation of Planets, on that of the Klingon Empire, and on the Romulan Star Empire.’

‘You vhat?’ Chekov asked slowly, then glanced across at Kirk. ‘Sir, he must be mad.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Kirk said reluctantly. ‘He’s frighteningly sane. Just what do you plan to do from here, Commander?’ he asked. ‘Why are you so interested in that metal?’

‘The metal doesn’t just run under the mountains. It carries on for miles - and its ending is directly below this structure. There is a pool of the metal precisely beneath us - solidified, of course. Mr Spock told you it is an excellent source of power when the correct current is passed through it. I assume it is not coincidence that this thing is built here. There are natural electrical pulsations - very small, of course, but combined with the metal, they are magnified thousands, millions of times. An inexhaustible supply of power. This structure will act as a focus for that power. Just the power we need to radiate the effect of your Starfleet’s brilliant new medical instrument through all of space. And then every planet will be powerless, and owned by the Empire of Pzyioma.’

‘Captain, it is possible that this could be accomplished,’ Spock said heavily. ‘At least to a certain radius.’

‘Oh, entirely,’ Commander Dfemuistyr agreed. ‘Be assured, Commander, that our mathematicians are rather more advanced than yours. The calculations are sound.’

‘You destroyed fifteen villages full of innocent people?’ Kirk asked him in disgust. ‘You’re acting like this is an everyday occurrence for you.’

‘It is. Of course we had to test the weapon, and we found it worked admirably. We had to test it, and we had to rid this area of people, so we combined both. We were not working along a straight line. It is simply that those villages sprung up along the fault where the metal occurred, and we utilised it in our experiments. We were going to work around this structure - destroy all life within a thousand mile radius, to keep away prying eyes. Now we find that we have to push forward the attack, and the other towns must be left. It makes no difference. The people that live so close will be killed anyway, as soon as the attack begins.’

‘You’ve been cold-bloodedly attacking and destroying entire towns in your experiments – killing thousands of people!’ Kirk exclaimed. ‘Good God, man! Don’t you care at all?’

‘Of course not,’ he shrugged. ‘It was a simple matter to focus a small amount of power on those villages - to kill the people, or render them harmless. Then all we had to do was incinerate the place. We have a ship orbiting this planet that could disintegrate the _Enterprise_ in a matter of seconds. It could destroy the whole planet of Vulcan, if we didn’t think it was such a waste. We can use the land for our people, and the Vulcans for slaves. I’ve heard they’re very strong people. Now.’ He took his own communicator, and opened it, then added another, alien looking device to it. ‘I’m going to call the _Enterprise_ , and convince them of our deaths. Do not call out.’ He swung the phaser toward Kirk. ‘Or I will kill you, Captain.’

‘Only after the _Enterprise_ hears we’re alive,’ Kirk grated.

‘Of course. I forgot – you’re the self-sacrificing type.’ He turned the phaser on Spock and Chekov. ‘If any one of you speaks, the other two die. Now will you make a noise?’

Kirk’s eyes narrowed, then he shook his head. ‘No. Go ahead.’

‘Thank you.’ The man tuned in the communicator, and heard a faint response.

‘Lieutenant Uhura here. Can you boost you signal, landing party? I’m hardly reading you.’

The man pushed up the power on the device, then spoke. ‘ _Enterprise_ . This is Lieutenant Dempster. We are inside Pnauh’Kmaghe. Repeat. Inside Pnauh’Kmaghe. Trapped by strange forces. Hardly any air. Kirk and Spock dead, Chekov dying.’ The man put a little more static into the signal. ‘Something happening. Don’t know what. Oh, God, help me!’ Then the man screamed horribly, and dropped the communicator on the floor. Uhura’s voice cut off in mid-word. ‘There,’ he said, satisfied, to Kirk. ‘Aren’t you glad you did as I said?’

‘Not very, no,’ Kirk said tightly.

‘As you please.’ Dempster turned to go, then seemed to have second thoughts. ‘I don’t know much about this Vulcan tomb. I need one of you to come along with me. You, Mr Spock. You can read the language. You understand the Vulcan mind.’

‘I am afraid I cannot go with you,’ Spock said politely. ‘I have no wish to aid you in your attempt to conquer our galaxy.’

‘What you wish has no consequence. You will come with me.’

Spock raised an eyebrow, then his eyes narrowed as Kirk’s had.

‘I will not,’ he said with determination. ‘You cannot force me to aid you by any threats or physical violence, and you cannot move me unless you pick me up and carry me.’

‘I will kill your friends.’

Spock stepped in front of the two gold-shirted men. ‘Then you must kill them through me, and I too will be killed. If you stun me, when I awake I will not help you. If you try to probe my mind in any way I will kill myself. You cannot stop me from doing that.’

‘You wouldn’t be prepared to kill yourself,’ the man said in a tone of arrogant certainty.

Spock’s eyebrow rose.

‘I would,’ he promised. ‘Hundreds of civilisations are at risk from your weapon. I do not lie. I am not bluffing. It is a simple matter to break my own neck. And it would do no good to bind me. A Vulcan has complete control over his body. I can make my heart stop beating. I need only one thought. I would readily sacrifice my life if it would save thousands.’

‘You are a very logical man, Mr Spock,’ Dempster told him.

Spock inclined his head slightly, ever-polite.

‘Thank you for the compliment.’

‘So I will go alone,’ he nodded. ‘Well, I’m sure primitive Vulcan architecture is no match for me.’

‘And us?’ Kirk asked. ‘You’ll leave us to die of starvation, or asphyxiation when the air in this room runs out?’

‘I wonder which would come first, Captain Kirk?’ he asked with a grim smile. ‘They are both unpleasant ends, but you have at least gained a little more life.’

He gathered up the phasers, and went towards an arched golden door at the end of the glorious room. Then he turned back to them, raising a phaser and pointing it directly at them. ‘A  _very_ little more life.’

His finger tightened on the trigger, and the three men tensed, ready to spring away as soon as the weapon was activated.

The beam never came. They stared in horror as Dempster’s face began to turn grey. It happened so smoothly that they hardly noticed the change, but then Spock became aware that he was staring at a figure of grey ash - a figure that gave a slight sigh, and slipped slowly down into a heap on the floor.


	11. Chapter 11

‘Spock!’

Kirk forced his frozen muscles to move, turning his head stiffly to the Vulcan’s face. His brain could not quite comprehend that a man could be standing there one moment, and reduced to ash the next.

‘Spock, did you see that? What in hell happened to the man?’

Spock was already holding out his tricorder and scanning the inert heap with a look of rapt fascination on his face.

‘Unknown, Captain,’ he said, the slight edge to his voice betraying his annoyance at something that had happened that he could not explain. It was obvious that his scientific curiosity was roused to its fullest. ‘Fascinating,’ he said, studying the readouts on his tricorder screen. ‘The man was not burned by heat, acid or radiation, and yet he has been reduced to simple ash. There are no force fields present – no factors at all to account for what happened. I – cannot explain it.’

Spock heard a gulping noise from beside him, and glanced sideways to see Chekov’s face whiten, then wash over with green.

‘Chekov!’ he snapped, taking hold of the ensign’s arm to support him. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Y-yes, sir,’ the young man said slowly, pressing a hand to his stomach. He shook his head, trying to shake off his pallor with a forced smile. ‘It vas – just a shock.’

‘You had better sit down,’ Spock advised him, looking around the room briefly for any other immediate threats to their safety. Nothing was obvious – but then, nothing had been obvious just before Dempster’s timely disintegration. It would have been far easier had the frail humans had not been trapped in this dangerous place with him.

‘No, sir. I’m fine now,’ Chekov protested, trying to look less disturbed. No matter how hard he tried, he could not quite rid himself of the feeling of horses galloping around his stomach.

‘Sit down,’ Kirk ordered. ‘I think it turned all our stomachs a little.’

Chekov nodded, and sank down to the black floor. Kirk motioned for Spock to copy him, and after a moment of reluctance he did so. Kirk took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, before reaching for the communicator that still lay where Dempster had dropped it. Then he joined the other two officers on the floor, glancing warily at the pile of ash, unable to shake off the feeling that something undefined might happen at any moment.

‘Kirk to _Enterprise_ ,’ he said in a tired voice, opening the communicator. ‘Come in.’

‘ _Enterprise_ here!’ came the ecstatic reply from Lieutenant Uhura. ‘Captain Kirk? Is that really you?’

‘Yes, Uhura, it’s me.’ Kirk could hear in her voice the tears that she was trying to stifle back behind a smile. ‘It’s okay. We’re fine.’

‘I thought - Lieutenant Dempster said – Are Mr Spock and Chekov - ?’

‘We’re all fine,’ Kirk reassured her. ‘Except for Dempster, but that’s no loss. Uhura, we’re trapped inside this monument. Any chance of beaming us out?’

‘Just a moment, sir.’

Kirk could hear a low, hurried conversation in the background, then Sulu’s worried voice came through the communicator;

‘Sir, we think we can beam things in, but not out again. There seems to be a one way block. Captain, how did you get into that place? I thought almost no one had ever got in there.’

‘Spock – found a door. Something pulled us in, and we’re imprisoned in here.’ Kirk glanced back at the door through which they had entered the room. The heavy black stone slab still immutably blocked their way. ‘We can’t go back the way we came.’

‘Do you think you can get out any other way, Captain?’ Sulu asked in concern.

‘We’re going to have a pretty good try,’ Kirk said determinedly. ‘I don’t much fancy the idea of spending the rest of my days in here, even if you can beam in what we need for survival.’

‘What happened to Dempster, sir?’

‘He’s dead,’ the captain said shortly. ‘Something in this place turned him to ash. Spock, were you recording when that happened?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Spock nodded. He leant towards Kirk’s communicator. ‘ _Enterprise_ , prepare to receive tricorder signals.’

‘Ready, sir,’ Sulu said promptly.

Spock linked his tricorder to the communicator and began to relay his data. After the transmission was finished, there was a long silence on the bridge. When Spock’s voice echoed out of the intercoms around the circle of the bridge, almost everyone present jumped.

‘Mr Sulu,’ Spock said in his deep voice.

‘Aye, aye, sir.’ The helmsman turned quickly back to the intercom by his elbow. ‘We’ve seen the pictures, sir.’

‘We must consider this structure extremely hazardous to life,’ Spock told him. ‘Mr Sulu, there is a Pzyioman ship in orbit around Vulcan. I do not know what it will look like - none of us have ever heard of the planet Pzyioma. Likely the ship will be shielded, and invisible from sensors. It has the power to destroy _Enterprise_. I would suggest that if you attempt to locate its position the knowledge will aid you in the event of an attack. Endeavour to elucidate its strategy and firepower, and be prepared for every eventuality.’

‘We’ll do our best to find it, sir,’ Sulu grinned, wondering if Mr Spock thought they were all superhuman - or maybe even Vulcan.

‘Sulu,’ Kirk said, bringing the communicator back to his own mouth. ‘Notify Vulcan authorities, and get someone outside this place. I’d feel more comfortable with help that close. Maybe they can try to get in – you can use Spock’s recordings as a reference as to where. But Sulu – do _not_ allow any of our crew in unless they can keep that door open and be sure of getting out again.’

‘Sir, if we could send in an exploratory party – ’ Sulu began hopefully.

‘No,’ Kirk said resolutely. ‘I don’t want anyone else trapped. On no account is anyone to come in here without the certainty of getting out. Is that understood?’

‘Aye, sir,’ Sulu nodded regretfully.

‘Good,’ Kirk nodded. ‘We’re going to try to find out own way out of here. We’ll try to stay in contact with the ship - we’ll check in every ten minutes, if we’re able.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Sulu said. ‘Can we beam anything down to you, Captain?’

‘You can. We lost all our weapons when Dempster disintegrated. Beam down phasers and power packs, survival rations, a medical kit, flashlights, a backpack each, and - and warm, protective clothing. It’s chilly in here. Oh - give us an adapter for Spock’s tricorder, so we can broadcast pictures as we go.’

‘Aye, aye, sir,’ Sulu responded quickly. ‘It’ll all be there in two minutes, Captain.’

‘Acknowledged,’ Kirk nodded, and closed his communicator.

He turned to Spock in the sudden silence, seeing that his eyes were fixed on the small pile of dust that had been Dempster. He appeared to be studying it intently, but Kirk couldn’t imagine what answers he might get from the fine grey powder.

‘Don’t take it personally, Mr Spock,’ he said with a smile.

‘I beg your pardon, sir?’ he asked, turning to look at his captain.

‘Whatever it was that did that to him, I don’t think it was done just to give you an insoluble conundrum.’

Spock’s eyebrow rose sharply.

‘I had no illusion that it was,’ he responded. ‘However, I am reluctant to believe that the timing of his demise was pure coincidence. He died a moment before he would have killed us. I – am forced to consider that some consciousness may be at work here.’

‘Well, not necessarily,’ Kirk shrugged. ‘A sophisticated weapons detection system might have detected the build up of energy in the phaser – ’

‘He had not depressed the trigger,’ Spock pointed out. ‘His finger was moving, but it had not yet put pressure on the button.’

‘Still, it’s possible,’ Kirk insisted. ‘More possible than an omniscient consciousness somewhere in the ether.’

Spock gave him a rather hurt look. ‘Captain, at no point did I suggest anything quite so fanciful,’ he said.

‘Spock, did you know Dempster was up to no good, before all this happened?’ Kirk asked curiously, partly to change the subject.

Spock tilted his head to the side.

‘I was not certain, but I had my suspicions that the young man was not entirely human, as he claimed to be. I checked his records not long ago, and there were some small discrepancies. I did suspect that he may be some kind of spy.’

‘And you didn’t tell me?’ Kirk asked incredulously.

‘It is a very serious undertaking to accuse a person of espionage,’ Spock said solemnly. ‘I had to be sure of my facts. I was intending to do further research, and to inform you if it confirmed my suspicions.’

‘Did you have to vait until he tried to kill us to be sure, Mr Spock?’ Chekov asked him.

‘The problem is academic, Ensign, as the lieutenant is now dead, not us,’ Spock said, looking sideways at him.

‘Spock, can you really just will yourself dead?’ Kirk asked curiously, remembering what the Vulcan had said to Dempster. ‘Can you just shut yourself down with a thought?’

‘It would not be logical for a life form to have the ability to end its own life so easily, sir,’ Spock told him. ‘Living with humans does have some dubious benefits. I have learnt to lie more easily.’

He was interrupted by the hum of the transporter, and a small shimmering heap appeared on the floor and solidified. Kirk smiled, and rummaged through it, handing out warm jackets and gloves. Then he poked around a little more, a frown appearing on his face. He opened the communicator again.

‘Mr Sulu. Where are the phasers and power packs I asked for? Why aren’t they here?’

‘I don’t know, sir,’ Sulu replied, sounding puzzled. ‘The transporter operator says they were left behind when everything else went. They’re just sitting there on the transporter terminal, and they won’t beam out.’

‘Check for malfunctions,’ Kirk said grimly. ‘I don’t like being in this place unarmed.’

‘Captain,’ Spock said in an apologetic tone. ‘After seeing Dempster die, I do not believe phasers would protect us overmuch.’

‘You may be right,’ Kirk said with a grimace. ‘But, illogical as it is, I’d still feel happier with one on my hip.’ He sighed, putting the communicator back to his mouth. ‘Okay, Sulu. We’ll call in in ten minutes. Meantime, see what you can do about those phasers.’

‘Aye, aye, sir,’ came the helmsman’s voice. ‘We’ll be waiting. Sulu out.’

Kirk sorted his share of the supplies into a rucksack and strapped it onto his back. He waited while Spock and Chekov finished doing the same, and then turned to Spock.

‘Well. If you’ve finished scanning this place, Spock, do you have any idea of a way out?’

‘I believe our best chance would be to proceed towards the centre, Captain,’ Spock said, nodding towards |the other end of the room.

‘Von’t that just get us more lost than ve already are, sir?’ Chekov asked doubtfully.

Spock shook his head.

‘Not necessarily, Ensign. It is likely that the kings’ chamber will be situated in the centre.’ He turned back to Kirk. ‘There are a number of burial chambers on Vulcan, Captain – much diminished compared to this one – that are the burial places of lesser kings, and noblemen. Those, at least, have been explored. From my experience of structures such as this, there will be some kind of control system so as to allow the kings to release themselves, when they are reborn.’

‘But wouldn’t it just be a superficial thing?’ Kirk pointed out. ‘A symbolic rebirth?’

‘I am hoping, Captain, that these people believed in a physical rebirth - the actual metamorphosis of the dead body into a new life form, to carry the soul of the king. The legends in here do indicate that the people believed the king really would walk again. They say he will leave the tomb - in the near future, too - and will undertake a long journey.’

Kirk’s eyebrows rose. ‘Well, who are we to argue with ancient Vulcan kings?’ he asked lightly. ‘So, which way?’

Spock pointed towards the end of the great room, where the arched doorway inlaid with gold stood waiting for them.

‘I would suggest, that door.’

‘Spock, in case you’ve forgotten,’ Kirk pointed out rather sarcastically, ‘that is where Dempster was reduced to grey powder.’

‘I will scan for abnormal power readings - but however illogical it may seem, sir, I do firmly believe Dempster was killed so as to save our lives, whether by the will of a conscious entity or simply by a remote weapons detection system,’ Spock replied, showing no sign of having noticed Kirk’s sarcasm. ‘He stood in that one place for a few moments before he was reduced. The incident happened just as he had announced we were to die, and was about to depress the trigger of his phaser weapon. I do not believe that it was a random trap.’

Kirk shook his head, looking baffled.

‘Well, Mr Spock – it beats staying here,’ he said finally. ‘I guess there’s only one way to test your theory.’

Kirk walked forward cautiously, until his feet were just a few inches from the pile of ash. He waved his hand over it, and felt nothing, then circled around it, side-stepping so as to keep his eyes fixed on it.

‘Come on,’ he beckoned quietly. ‘It seems safe.’

Spock and Chekov joined him, and they went on towards the majestic golden door. Spock’s eyes ran quickly over the panels as they neared it, and he held up his hand to stop them while they were still a few steps away from it.

‘More writings,’ he muttered, half to himself, as he analysed the meaning of the strange symbols. ‘Wait, Jim.’

He knelt down in front of the doors and bowed his head, chanting in an old fashioned form of Vulcan that sounded even stranger than the modern language. Then he stood, and pressed his palms to the gold panels of the doors, either side of the crack, and pushed. The doors swung smoothly outward, revealing a long, dark corridor that stretched into obscurity.

‘The words I just recited formed a chant pleading entry and safe journey through the vaults,’ Spock explained, keeping his gaze on the dim passage. ‘I believe it may also have been a voice command for the doors to open. I do not think Dempster would have gotten far, with his lack of knowledge of the Vulcan language.’

‘He proved that himself,’ Kirk agreed. ‘He didn’t understand like you do, Spock. Hell, _we_ don’t understand.’

‘In that case - maybe I should go first, sir?’

‘I think it might be wise, Spock.’ The captain waved a hand into the passage. ‘Go on. After you.’

Spock stepped into the murky blackness and raised his torch, letting the beam slice into the dark. The light showed only dim ochre-brown walls that were unadorned, giving a stark contrast to the ornately decorated room behind them.

‘Vhat is this?’ Chekov asked, half surprised at such a contrast between this passage and the grand room they had just left.

‘Presumably a simple connecting corridor,’ Spock said with disinterest. ‘It seems to extend for quite some distance.’

‘Well, it’s warmer in here, and it’s the only way we can go,’ Kirk shrugged. ‘Come on.’

Spock nodded assent, and they began to make their way deeper into the great tomb.

******

Kirk flopped back against the yellow-brown wall, looking up and down the straight, tedious corridor that seemed to extend for miles. He felt at the back of his belt for his communicator, tugged it off, and heard it chirrup as he opened it to contact the  _Enterprise_ .

‘Kirk to _Enterprise_ ,’ he called. ‘Sulu. Do you read me?’

‘Sulu here,’ came the voice of his helmsman, crackling a little with interference from the tomb surrounding them. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Still receiving visual signals?’

‘Aye, sir.’

Sulu glanced at the large forward screen on the bridge, that showed Kirk and Chekov looking tired in a dim, narrow brown corridor, and Spock’s hand near the tricorder, moving it to make a sweep of the total view.

‘It’s been passages all day, hasn’t it, sir?’ the helmsman commented with evident sympathy in his voice.

Kirk grunted. ‘I feel like a rat in a maze,’ he complained. ‘But this rat’s had enough. We’re settling for the night. Beam down some sleeping bags, please, Mr Sulu. We’ll contact you in the morning, for more rations.’

‘Aye, aye, sir. Is that all, Captain?’

‘That’s all. Kirk out.’ The captain glanced around at the dark, uninteresting corridor they were in, and grimaced at Spock. ‘Not exactly a five star hotel, is it?’

‘One would hardly expect guest rooms in such a place, sir,’ Spock replied.

The Vulcan picked a sleeping bag as they materialised, and quickly settled himself down in it on one side of the passage.

‘We’d better wake up in eight hours,’ Kirk told Spock. ‘Can you wake yourself up at that time?’

‘Of course, sir,’ Spock said at once.

‘Good. We can’t afford to spend too long asleep, but we do need to wake up fresh. You can turn that light off once we’re all in bed, Ensign,’ he told Chekov. ‘No point in wasting our power.’

‘Aye, aye, sir.’

Chekov slid into his warm bag and settled with the wall at his back, glancing rather apprehensively at the dim darkness down the corridor at the margins of the torch beam’s reach.

Kirk lay down nearby, and grunted, ‘Night, Spock, Chekov. Sleep well.’

‘Good night, Captain,’ Chekov said with a rather wan smile. Then, against all of his nervous instinct, he turned the powerful flash lamp off, and closed his eyes.

******

Chekov woke with a jump, opening his eyes in the thick darkness. He stayed pressed down in his sleeping bag, flat against the floor. He would have sworn that strange noises had been echoing up and down the corridor, magnified and distorted by the hard walls. Now, all was silence. Perhaps he had been dreaming… Surely he had been dreaming. But the noises had seemed too real to ignore.

‘Captain,’ he called quietly. ‘Are you avake, sir?’

His voice stirred Kirk out of his sleep. Chekov began to have second thoughts as he heard the captain moving in the deathly silence – but at that moment a blood curdling scream rang through the corridor.

‘Spock!’ Kirk hissed, reaching out to shake the Vulcan’s arm. ‘Chekov, turn that light on,’ he ordered quickly.

Chekov was only too glad to oblige. He fumbled quickly in the darkness for the torch, and as the light flooded the passage the noise snapped off.

‘Give it to me,’ Spock snapped, sitting up.

He took the torch and switched it off again. The noises began again, louder and more real than before. The Vulcan turned the light back on, and they stopped abruptly. His eyebrow rose, and there was a distinctly unimpressed curl to his lip

‘Obviously someone, or something, is trying to scare us,’ he said dryly.

‘Then someone is succeeding,’ Kirk said heatedly.

Spock shook his head. ‘I very much doubt it is anything that can harm us.’

‘I don’t know about physical harm,’ Kirk muttered. ‘But it’s effective enough on my nerves.’

‘As it is designed to be, sir. You must believe it to be unreal.’

Kirk gave a short laugh. ‘That may be simple if you’re a Vulcan, but humans grow up hearing ghost stories, seeing people act out horror scenes and dressing up like the dead. Haven’t you ever sat around a camp fire with your friends, as a child, and told each other tales of the dead?’

Spock looked at him sharply, with a hint of reproach.

‘I guess not,’ Kirk shrugged. ‘Sorry.’

‘You are describing the quite illogical practice of scaring oneself so as to have fun. Now you do not want to be scared. It should be simple enough to ignore the noises.’

‘It is not all black and vhite, Mr Spock,’ Chekov protested. ‘Ve cannot simply shut down the fear centres of our minds.’

‘Hmm,’ Spock said. ‘A inconvenient human weakness.’

‘But the noises stop vhen the light is on,’ Chekov pointed out. ‘It is only in the dark that – ’

Spock sighed a long suffering sigh. ‘Then the alternative is to sleep with the light on,’ he decided, and turned over in his sleeping bag to face the wall, indicating that he was ready to sleep again.

‘We’re grown men, not children,’ Kirk muttered. ‘We can’t let ourselves be scared by some extravagant ghost train display. Get back to sleep, Chekov - but leave that light on,’ he added quickly.

‘Aye, aye, sir,’ Chekov smiled, and settled, somewhat uneasily, back to sleep, with his head burrowed deep into the warm bag to shut out the light.


	12. Chapter 12

‘Captain ... Jim.’

Kirk was shaken gently and respectfully out of deep sleep by Spock’s hand on his shoulder. He moaned sleepily, and rolled over, keeping his eyes firmly closed.

‘Captain,’ Spock insisted. ‘You requested for me to wake you up after eight hours of sleep.’

‘Mmm,’ Kirk mumbled, wishing that he hadn’t. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the light of the torch. ‘I’m surprised that light hasn’t run down after being on all night.’

‘I switched it off shortly after you and Chekov fell asleep, Jim,’ Spock admitted. ‘The noises did not return - and I sleep a good deal better in dim light.’

Kirk smiled sleepily at the Vulcan. ‘How long have you been awake, Spock?’

‘Two hours, twenty minutes,’ Spock told him, squatting down beside him. ‘I explored down the corridor for some small distance. We have three options as to our direction. A branch to the right, one to the left, or straight on.’

‘I guess we take the one that points towards the centre,’ Kirk decided. ‘You shouldn’t have gone on alone though, Spock. You can’t tell when something might happen. This is a big place to find a missing person in, and we can’t even find the exit.’

Spock regarded him with an unreadable expression, that Kirk interpreted as his unwillingness to argue with his captain despite the fact that he heartily disagreed with his opinion.

‘Maybe it was unwise, but I am unharmed,’ the Vulcan said finally. ‘Captain, I don’t believe it’s necessarily logical to take the passage that is aimed towards the centre of this structure. These corridors wind about so much that we’ll probably be facing in a totally different direction within the space of a few minutes.’

‘We may as well take that one, though,’ Kirk argued. ‘It’s as good a direction as any, and we may as well keep consistent, instead of just choosing passages on impulse. If we keep taking corridors that point to the centre we’re bound to get to it sooner or later.’

Spock’s eyebrow rose at the human’s dubious logic, but he simply said, ‘I certainly hope so, sir. The prospect of being trapped in here until we die is not exactly inviting.’ He paused for a moment as he let that thought run through his mind, then looked across to the lump in a sleeping bag that was Ensign Chekov, still peacefully asleep. ‘Shall I wake Chekov?’

‘Good idea. We’d better get under way.’

Kirk began to don his jacket and pick up his rucksack while Spock shook the ensign’s shoulder. The man woke up with a violent start, obviously on edge.

‘Vhat?’ he exclaimed, then pushed his head out into the open. ‘Oh!’ He struggled out of the bag and stood up. ‘Are ve ready to move on, Captain?’

‘That’s right.’ Kirk straightened up, ready to walk off, but Spock touched his shoulder.

‘Captain, we cannot leave our sleeping bags here.’

‘Sulu can beam more down,’ Kirk shrugged.

‘Jim, maybe the enormity of this structure makes you forget, but this is a grave,’ Spock said seriously. ‘It is a tomb to the greatest kings that Vulcan ever possessed. We cannot simply leave all our rubbish behind in the corridors. And the bags are very light.’

‘I guess you’re right,’ the captain smiled, ashamed. ‘It is easy to forget.’

He rolled up the thin bag and stuffed it into his knapsack, then took some rations from an outer pocket.

‘We eat on the move,’ he ordered, starting off down the corridor. Spock followed obediently, declining to eat, while Chekov munched at some kind of snack bar behind him.

 

They walked through the long, tedious corridors for more than an hour, and Spock was beginning to feel faint pangs of hunger that told him it was time to eat now. He took a small swallow of a nutritional drink, then pushed the flask back into his bag. At that point the passage they were in began to widen steadily, and Spock pointed at heavy gold doors blocking their path.

‘More chants and prayers, sir,’ he indicated, as they reached them. ‘May I?’

‘Go ahead,’ Kirk invited. ‘I don’t want to be turned into ash.’

Spock went to the door and knelt, and solemnly recited the chants he saw on the gold panels, in a low, murmuring voice. Then he touched a certain spot on the surface, and the doors swung open. A blast of cold air hit them like a wind. The Vulcan hurriedly slid gloves over his hands, which gave surprising warmth considering the thin material they were made of. Spock looked up again into an enormous chamber, the faces of its walls and ceiling studded with jewels and embellished with gold-plated pictures in relief.

Chekov gasped at the glittering room before them. ‘There must be more vealth in this place than all of Wulcan!’ he exclaimed.

‘What is this, Spock?’ the captain asked, twisting his head to scan the room. ‘Not the king’s chamber?’

‘No. I doubt that.’

Spock walked forward to touch a huge, dusty tomb, that stretched along the great room. He wiped his gloved hand over part of the stone, and read the writing he saw there.

‘This is where the slaves and animals belonging to the third king, Stiyok, are entombed, Captain. They would have been lined up outside the vault, then each would step up to the rim, and his or her neck would be broken. The animals were killed in a similar way.’

‘You mean they’d stand there seeing all those bodies of people who had gone before them, and just let themselves be killed?’ Kirk asked incredulously.

Spock turned to face him.

‘They would have no choice,’ he said simply, with a slight shrug of the shoulders. ‘It was believed that the deceased would need his slaves and livestock in his new life, so they had to die with him. I am sure that occasionally there was a struggle, and obviously the children would be terribly afraid - ’

‘They killed the children?’

Kirk began to feel sick. The vision it conjured up reminded him of Klingon death camps. It was chilling to think that Vulcans were once so cruel. Spock saw his expression of disgust.

‘Vulcans were people of great passion, Captain, and dedicated to their traditions,’ he explained, as if trying to excuse his ancestors. ‘That is why we had to learn to suppress our emotions. Without that control - ’

Kirk looked at Spock as a startling realisation hit him, suddenly seeing the Vulcan in a new light. Without that control… He had seen Spock angry before. He had heard McCoy’s account of what happened in the Tyok caves only a few days ago. Sometimes a Vulcan’s passion escaped, and who could tell when...

‘Captain.’

Kirk cringed with embarrassment when he saw that Spock had read the shocked look as easily as if he had spoken his feelings out loud. The Vulcan gestured for Kirk to follow him, and they moved away from Chekov, who staring in fascination at the intricate decoration on the huge tomb.

‘Captain,’ Spock began again in a low voice. ‘In times of great pressure emotion does sometimes escape, but Vulcans have not only mastered their passions - they have also developed with time. I am not capable of such an act – of such carnage – any more than you are capable of committing the atrocities of your ancient civilisations.’

‘I know that,’ Kirk smiled weakly, ashamed of even thinking of it. ‘I never truly believed you would be. All this happened thousands of years ago. It’d be a totally different race of people. But the children, Spock - ’

‘They killed all except the youngest babies,’ Spock confirmed. ‘Some fortunate mothers were granted their life so that they could raise the infants.’

‘And the condemned just went up there like sheep?’

Kirk couldn’t keep from staring at the huge stone vault. It was difficult to force his mind to accept that it could be full of remains, and that there were many more tombs like it in this enormous building.

‘There would have been fights at the executions, but Vulcans did have more unpleasant ways of putting people to death than breaking the neck, and ways of life which are worse than death,’ Spock said ominously.

‘I take your point - but this thing is enormous, Spock.’

He nodded solemnly. ‘It does indicate the wealth and power of these men.’

‘Captain,’ Chekov interrupted, back at Spock’s side. ‘I can hear a transporter.’

‘Sulu?’ Kirk questioned. ‘I didn’t ask for anything.’

‘More to the point, he does not yet know where we are,’ Spock reminded him. ‘It isn’t our transporter.’ He cocked an ear towards the noise. ‘It doesn’t sound like our transporter. It is definitely a different pitch.’

The captain nodded, although the sound seemed no different from that of the  _Enterprise_ transporter to his ears. But Spock was usually right, and he took the Vulcan’s word as fact.

‘Get down,’ he said swiftly.

Kirk crouched, obeying his own order as he spoke it, huddling against the side of the cold stone tomb. Then he crept, staying low, to the corner of the stone, and watched six humanoids materialise, in an unusual, red sparkling transporter beam. It was the same colour and shade as the beam of the counterfeit MIPTD, he noted.

Spock came silently to watch over his shoulder.

‘D’you think they know they can’t beam out again?’ the captain whispered to Spock.

‘Unknown, Captain. That is irrelevant. The important question is, what are they doing in here, and who are they?’

‘Pzyiomans, I’d assume. Maybe they know Dempster got in, and’re coming to investigate why they haven’t heard anything. They might know _Enterprise_ has been beaming things in here.’

Kirk stopped speaking as the beam released the figures, and he watched with pleasure the surprise on their faces when they realised their weapons hadn’t come through with them. One tall man took a strange communicator from a shoulder holster and spoke into it in a fast, harsh tongue. Then he stamped his foot on the floor and kicked at a tall, beautiful pillar that was decorated with patterns of flowers and animals. He impatiently beckoned for the group to follow him out of the room. The leader stopped at the door, said some words awkwardly in a different language that was obviously strange to him, and disappeared through the doorway that opened before him.

‘Obviously they have brought someone down who knows my language,’ Spock said with a hint of surprise.

‘They might not know as much as you do,’ Kirk reasoned, mostly to reassure himself. ‘And they might not know this grave bites back,’ he said seriously.

‘Their impatient and careless attitude shows that,’ Spock agreed with him. ‘It usually benefits to have respect for whatever one is dealing with. And the man does not have a total knowledge of Vulcan.’ He shuddered, although the slight movement was almost invisible to the gesticulative humans. ‘His pronunciation was extremely poor.’

Chekov grinned. Anyone who was not born to it – except perhaps the Romulans – would find Vulcan hard, or near impossible, to pronounce. Almost as hard as these English speakers found Russian. Kirk grinned too. He knew that with the mouth movements Vulcans grew up learning to use, they found English an equally strange and awkward language to articulate, even if they never showed it.

‘I guess we better be moving on,’ the captain decided quickly, before Spock had a chance to see their smiles, and think they were laughing at him.

Kirk ran his eyes over the room, looking for other routes out. There was another door at the opposite end of the room, facing the centre of the tomb.

‘Well, shall we follow the Pzyiomans, or take the other door?’ Kirk asked the two men.

He didn’t run his starship as a democracy, but he figured they should have some choice when all their lives were at stake with each decision they made.

‘Ve do not vant to bump into them, sir,’ Chekov pointed out. ‘They do not look as if they vould velcome us.’

‘On the other hand,’ Kirk argued. ‘We want to know what they’re doing. If Dempster was serious, then it’s the whole galaxy hanging in the balance.’

‘I suggest that we follow at a discreet distance,’ Spock advised, ‘first contacting the _Enterprise_ , apprising them of our situation, and requesting a universal translator so that we can understand what these men say if and when we locate them.’

‘That sounds logical,’ Kirk agreed. He looked at Chekov, and the ensign nodded. The captain opened his communicator. ‘Kirk to _Enterprise_. Come in.’

‘ _Enterprise_. Scott here,’ came an unexpected voice.

‘Scotty?’ Kirk asked, glancing across at Spock with faint worry. ‘Where’s Sulu?’

‘Och, there’s nothing wrong with him, sir,’ Scott reassured him, reading the concern in his voice. ‘I sent him off to take a rest. I’ve taken over command for a wee while. Are ye all well, Captain?’

‘Yes. We’re all here,’ Kirk told him, smiling. ‘We’re fine for now.’

‘Little T’Si’s been screaming for you, Mr Spock,’ Scott said dismally. ‘We cannae settle her.’

‘Who is attending to her?’ Spock asked immediately.

‘Christine Chapel’s taking care of her in sickbay. The nurses are going broody over her. You’ll have all the fairest lassies leaving the ship to have bairns, Mr Spock,’ he said reproachfully.

Spock responded with a disapproving grunt. ‘Then I cannot speak to her to reassure her,’ he said.

‘She has lungs like the devil’s foghorns,’ Scotty said helplessly. ‘She’ll wail until we’re all stone deaf.’

‘Then I suggest that someone explain the situation to her,’ Spock said, as if that had always been the most obvious answer. ‘If simple words are used, and strong tone of voice, she should understand.’

‘Aye, sir,’ Scott grinned. ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘Scotty,’ Kirk intervened. ‘I hate to interrupt your baby talk, but we haven’t loads of time. I want a universal translator sent down. There’re six more Pzyiomans in here, and they’re bound to be up to no good. We’re going to follow them.’

‘Aye, aye, sir,’ the man said enthusiastically in his Scottish brogue. ‘Right away, Captain.’

Kirk smiled at Scott’s efficiency when, less than thirty seconds later, a translator materialised on the floor in front of him.

‘Thanks, Scotty. We’ll check in again as soon as possible. Kirk out.’ He attached the communicator to his belt again, and looked up. ‘Come on, Spock. We have to catch up with them.’

‘I’m sure they will not be going too fast, sir,’ Spock said, approaching the door. He gave the blessing and it opened, to reveal another brown passage, this time with doors at regular intervals in either wall.

‘Can you hear them, Spock?’ Kirk asked. ‘We need the flashlight again, Chekov.’

‘I hear them, and I believe I smell them.’ Spock’s eyes bored into the darkness ahead, then the torch dazzled him, lighting up the passage for twenty metres. ‘They went straight ahead, Captain.’

‘Okay. That’s the way we go then.’

And they began to trudge along the passage. Kirk felt weary before they’d even started. He’d had about as much as he could take of long brown corridors. After a long while they came to another door blocking their way – a plain one this time, simply put there to cut off the end of the passage, perhaps as some kind of fire precaution.

Spock nodded, ‘Through there, sir.’

The door was opened cautiously, and Kirk gasped as a flight of stairs that seemed to stretch forever was revealed. He stared up into the dim light, straining his eyes, but he couldn’t see the top, nor could he see any movement above them.

‘Switch that light out,’ Spock ordered quickly. ‘I see them,’ he whispered, his sharp eyes seeing further into the gloom than the human’s. ‘They are a long way up. They will not hear us, but I advise we proceed with caution. We have no weapons.’

‘Neither do they,’ Kirk reminded him softly. ‘But they do outnumber us two to one. Come on. Slowly, and quietly. I’m not taking any chances.’

‘All the vay up there, sir?’ Chekov asked apprehensively. ‘It’s a long climb, Captain – and with our bags on our backs.’

‘Then the sooner we start the better.’

Kirk put his foot up determinedly onto the first sandy coloured step, and beckoned the others to follow.

******

They seemed to climb for hours, Spock always seeing the dim figures in front of them. Every now and then there was a flat, wide landing, a bend in the flight of stairs, and the opportunity for a short rest, then they carried on up, and up. Chekov stumbled up a step in the dim light, and Kirk steadied him.

‘We can’t use the flashlight,’ he apologised. ‘They’d see it.’

‘I know, sir,’ Chekov nodded. ‘It vas only a broken step that I tripped on.’

‘My legs are getting pretty shaky,’ Kirk grinned. ‘I don’t know how far up we’ve come.’

‘About three and a quarter light years, I think,’ he complained grimly.

‘Now, Chekov. Surely it’s further than just one little parsec?’ the captain laughed.

‘Three and a half light years then.’ Chekov paused, subconsciously waiting for Spock to tell him that was illogical, considering the structure was only one mile high – or perhaps to comment on the inappropriateness of humour in this situation. ‘Captain?’ he said, when Spock said nothing.

His voice had changed to concern. The ensign nodded at Mr Spock. The Vulcan was standing as if he had been frozen, directing a sharply pointed ear toward the ceiling.

‘Spock?’ Kirk asked, recognising the posture. ‘What do you sense?’

Spock answered without realising he was speaking. ‘I sense – I sense life – the essence of life. Not of the body. Something is watching us from somewhere.’

There was a look of intense concentration on the Vulcan’s face, then it cleared rapidly, and Spock became aware of the captain touching his arm.

‘Captain,’ he hissed, suddenly urgent. ‘I hear something.’

Abruptly there was a loud creaking noise. As the Vulcan whipped around to investigate, stone slabs crashed down below and above them, cutting them off from the rest of the stairs, creating a chamber.

‘What is it?’ Kirk snapped.

‘I do not know,’ Spock replied calmly. ‘Sounds like a sucking noise.’

‘Yes. I hear it now. What is it?’ Kirk repeated, then choked, as all the air was sucked from his lungs. He gasped, strangling, and grabbed hold of Spock’s arm as he collapsed to the ground. ‘Vacuum,’ he wheezed. A dizziness spread through his mind as it was starved of oxygen, and lights started to flash in front of his eyes. The flashing spots of colour spread rapidly, blocking all his vision, until they merged into blackness.


	13. Chapter 13

Spock gulped in as much air as he could the instant he realised what the sucking noise was. Kirk was collapsing beside him, trying to hang onto the Vulcan’s arm. He let Kirk down gently to the ground, as Chekov fell on the other side of him, then he knelt and tore at the communicator on Kirk’s belt.

‘ _Enterprise_ ,’ he choked, with the little air left in his lungs. ‘Oxygen masks. Fast.’

Then he slid onto the ground himself, clutching at a stair edge to stop himself tumbling back down to the stone block. He pledged to force himself to stay conscious, air or no air, until he could get the masks over the humans’ mouths.

There was a terrible tearing at his sides as all the air was steadily sucked out of the space around him, the same force tugging at his body, trying to tear it apart. Then a mask materialised, and he pressed it over Kirk’s mouth. Another appeared, then another, and had there been air, Spock would have gasped in relief. He got a life saving mask over Chekov, then grasped for another. He was on the verge of unconsciousness, but managed to breathe deeply himself, feeling the wonderful air rushing into his lungs.

Kirk’s eyes popped open, and he gave a weak smile. But the force was still pulling at him, as if the three men’s bodies were trying to fill the room in place of the air. Then there was the hum of the transporter again, and the chamber filled up with beautiful air, stopping the tugging and ripping at their sides.

‘Scotty!’ Kirk exclaimed, still panting. ‘Only Scotty’d think of that.’

The engineer had hurriedly ordered the transporter operators to beam down air, of all things. Better than an oxygen mask. Kirk had been the first to pass out, then the first to get oxygen. Now he was the first to recover. His ribs were throbbing from the force that had tried to tear them open, and he pressed his hands to his sides weakly. Then he saw that Spock’s eyes were closed, and he bent over the Vulcan.

‘Spock? You okay?’

Spock nodded, pulling himself back from the brink of passing out. ‘Yes, Jim. I am now.’

‘Thanks for saving my life,’ the captain grinned.

‘Please do not mention it. It is a deed to which I have grown accustomed,’ Spock returned seriously, but his eyes were sparkling, and the smile lines crinkled slightly. He closed his eyes again for a short moment, then recovered enough to sit up. ‘Is Chekov all right?’ he asked, leaning back on the stairs and gulping the sweet air.

‘Yes, sir,’ came the weak response from the Russian, as he pulled the mask off his face. ‘Vhat happened, Mr Spock?’

‘Somebody’s trying to kill us,’ Kirk snapped. ‘And I’m damned if I’m going to let them succeed.’

‘Somebody is testing us,’ Spock corrected, as the bulkheads retracted into the ceiling. ‘Or is playing with us, as a cat plays with a mouse. If the anonymous individual desired our deaths, it would have been simple enough to reduce us to ash, as Dempster was reduced.’

‘Are you both okay to carry on?’ Kirk asked quickly. ‘We mustn’t lose those people.’

‘I am ready, sir,’ Spock said, helping Chekov to his feet. He offered his hand to Kirk, but the captain shook his head and stood on his own. Then he clutched at Spock’s arm as his knees turned into rubber.

‘No. I’m okay,’ he insisted, seeing Spock’s concerned stare, and began to trudge up the stairs again, only a little weakly.

******

Lieutenant Commander Scott paced slowly around the edge of the bridge –  _his_ bridge – casually glancing over the shoulder of each crewmember at her or his station. He could see why Kirk liked to sit up here in the captain’s chair. It felt good to be in command, and in control, of an entire ship – especially when that ship was the  _Enterprise_ .

Satisfied, he sauntered over to the front viewscreen, until his face was almost touching it. It showed only deep, cold, impenetrable black space, sprinkled with stars, and half blocked out by the great red planetary mass that was Vulcan. Standing here was like standing on the edge of eternity, looking through such a high quality screen that it had the clarity of a window onto real space. People could give themselves vertigo by standing here and looking into the depthless void. Scott prided himself on the face that he had never felt such vertigo. He preferred to focus on real dangers.

He smiled grimly at the invisible ship he knew was there, then turned and strode down to the navigator’s station.

‘Picked up anything yet, Riley?’

‘Nothing, sir. No abnormal readings at all.’ Kevin Riley shrugged resignedly. ‘If it’s there, they’re shielding it well.’

‘Hmm.’ The chief engineer went back to the captain’s chair and sat down in it heavily. ‘I don’t like playing hide and seek with a couple o’ hostile aliens and their ship.’

‘Ve do not yet know zat zere is a ship out zere,’ came a voice from his elbow.

‘I know, lass,’ Scott said firmly.

He turned to meet the face of Maia Karpova, an ensign training for science officer.  _Good, capable girl_ , he thought.  _Maybe even make captain one day, if she wanted it badly enough_ .

‘But _I_ know when there’s a ship out there watching us,’ he said aloud. ‘And there’s one there now.’

‘Such feelings are illogical,’ she said, with an uncertain smile on her face.

‘Mr Spock’s been training you directly, hasn’t he?’ Scott asked.

‘Yes, sir!’ she said in surprise. ‘How did you know?’

Scott smiled. He knew the girl was slowly learning English. She was good, but still sometimes repeated Spock’s stock phrases, parrot fashion. ‘You should meet Chekov, our navigator,’ he suggested. ‘You two’d get on just fine.’

Another smile lit her face. ‘Chekov. Ve already have met, sir. He’s a fine Russian. Such pride in his country.’ Then her face dropped again. ‘But now he’s trapped in a great stone rock in a desert, with a three point five seven percent probability of escape. And he promised me dinner tonight.’

Scotty could just imagine their dinner. Russian food, Russian talk, and Russian dessert. Maia was just the kind of girl for Chekov. Pretty, with her thick blond hair and short blue dress, and not too sure of herself yet, and very, very Russian. Pavel enjoyed playing the strong hero to an admiring maiden.

‘Go scan for that ship again,’ Scott told her. ‘You might pick something up, even if it’s only the residue fuel trails.’

‘Aye, aye, sir,’ she said smartly, and went back to her chair.

‘Mr Scott!’ Uhura spun from her communications board. ‘I’m picking up a transmission, sir.’

‘What kind of transmission, lass?’ Scott asked tersely. ‘Space must be chocablock with signals about this planet.’

Uhura checked her boards again. ‘It’s coming from apparently empty space, on the far side of Vulcan. It must be the Pzyioman ship, Scotty.’

Scott turned to face her. ‘Can ye lock onto it? Give us a picture of their bridge?’

‘I can try,’ she said optimistically. She ran her fingers over the bright buttons for a few moments, then smiled. ‘We’ve got visual, sir. On screen.’

The forward viewscreen shimmered, and the star picture was replaced by an image of a vast alien bridge. There were gasps from the crew on the  _Enterprise_ bridge.

‘Well,’ Scott said slowly. ‘All I can say is, I’m glad they dinna ken we’re looking in on them.’

Lieutenant Kevin Riley sat frozen at the navigator’s station, trying to take in the enormity of the thing. ‘There must be fifty people in it,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘And they look just like humans.’

‘Scotty,’ Uhura called gravely from the communications station. ‘They _do_ know we’re looking in on them. They somehow picked up the lock on their signal.’ She relayed information direct from the receiver in her ear. ‘They are – arming weapons and moving towards us. They want to hit us before we hit them. I don’t know what weapons they have. The translator didn’t have a word for it, but they are under the impression that they can blow us from one universe to the next.’

‘Shields up,’ Scott snapped briskly. ‘Riley. Evasive manoeuvres. Get that planet between them and us again.’

‘Aye, aye, sir,’ the navigator nodded, and the ship slowly moved in orbit a little round the huge orange ball.

‘They’re following, sir,’ Lieutenant Joseph snapped from the helm control. ‘And we’re still targeted. Apparently they can shoot round curves.’

‘Then break orbit immediately,’ Scott ordered. ‘Get as much distance as we can. Head for the nearest starbase. I want to get somewhere with some other ships for backup. I hate to leave the captain, but, we won’t get help from Vulcan transport ships.’

‘Aye, aye, sir.’

‘Lieutenant Uhura. Contact Vulcan and apprise them of our situation.’

‘Aye, sir.’ The woman began to speak to Vulcan as the ship broke orbit. ‘Scotty, they’ve commenced firing,’ she snapped. ‘They’re picking it up down there.’

‘Veer starboard,’ Scotty ordered the helmsman. ‘Increase speed to warp factor 9 as fast as it’s safe – faster, if you can.’

‘It’s tracking us, sir,’ Joseph said urgently. ‘We can only try to outrun it.’

They all watched the viewscreen, as a pulsing blue ball chased the ship, slowly creeping nearer, gathering speed all the way. Then it hit, engulfing the  _Enterprise_ in blue and red crackles of power that pierced the deflectors, and the bridge. A crewman screamed as a thread of the energy brushed his arm. His shape turned blinding white, then disappeared, leaving a dark burn mark on the carpet. The ship lurched sickeningly, and dropped to half its original speed. Scott yelled orders to the men in front of him, but neither could hear over the screaming of energy. Then it was gone as sharply as it had come, and silence crept over the ship.

‘That’s a mighty powerful energy weapon,’ Scott said tightly, his eyes narrowing dangerously. ‘Uhura, check all levels for damage and casualties.’

Uhura sat silent for a long moment, then snapped back into motion. ‘Y-yes, sir.’

‘Was that Altman we lost, sir?’ Riley asked shakily.

Scott nodded, as Joseph said, ‘I - think so. I guess he’s dead.’

‘It was no transporter beam,’ Scott told him grimly. ‘He’s dead.’

‘Just like that.’

‘More than ‘just like that’. Joseph, try to get us more speed. I’d guess that ship’s following us.’

‘We’re on half power, sir,’ the man reminded him.

‘I know that,’ Scott snapped, looking around in the dim, flickering light. ‘But we can get more speed than this, lad. Do it. Uhura. What damage?’

‘Deck six was hit hard, sir. Section C was the worst - the busiest section. Most of them are dead, Scotty. Seventy-eight crewmembers gone. Emergency bulkheads snapped down, and the medics can’t get to the ones still alive. The air’s sucking out from a rip in the hull. Minor casualties on other decks, and three fatalities so far in engineering. Warp drive will only last fifty minutes.’

‘Not long enough to find help.’

‘No, sir. And Scotty, there’s only life support for all of us for thirty-five minutes anyway.’

Scotty turned around to the science station, wishing it was Spock in the chair there. ‘Ensign Karpova, find out which is the nearest Constitution or Saladin class starship.’

The woman quickly accessed a computer file with one hand, fitting an ear receiver into her ear with the other. ‘Nearest ship is Saladin class destroyer USS Siva - it is 49 hours avay at maximum varp speed. There is also the USS Kongo - Constitution class - 69.34 hours avay at maximum varp.’

‘And by then we’ll be no more than a puddle of melted plastic and metal,’ Scotty muttered. ‘Without air-conditioning, to boot.’

‘Captain,’ Riley snapped. ‘Another energy ball. They don’t like us moving.’

‘All decks brace for enemy fire,’ Scott ordered through the intercom. ‘I don’t know if the ship can take it again,’ he said, solely to the bridge crew. ‘That energy penetrated our deflectors. Now we have none. It’ll fill this ship like the hull doesn’t exist.’

‘Shouldn’t we at least fire on the other ship, sir?’ Joseph asked.

‘Fire where? They’ve got a shielding system that holds even when they’re shooting at us, and they’re moving. We canna afford to waste that much power on shots in the dark. It’d cut our energy levels to half what we’ve got, and we havena got much. We hardly have manoeuvring power.’ Scott watched the ball of fire growing as it sped across the miles of space. His eyes narrowed again while he thought hard. ‘Joseph! How far would we get with one spurt of full power? How fast?’

‘Not far, sir. Maybe five hundred kilometres, at warp 5.’

‘That’s what I thought. Then do it, one second before the energy hits.’

‘But, sir, that’ll - ’

‘Just do it, man,’ Scott snapped.

‘Aye, aye, sir.’ He set his instruments carefully, then waited, as the ball of death crept closer. It suddenly swelled to three times its previous size, as it rushed up the last few kilometres. It almost touched the hull, then the ship jerked forward, as if propelled by a catapult. The blue tendrils of energy made contact for one second, clinging to the ship. A concentrated blast touched the port propulsion unit, hanging on as if it were designed to send all its energy into whatever it managed to get a grip on. Then the power dissipated into empty space, as the _Enterprise_ jumped away.

‘Damage, Uhura?’ Scott asked, as soon as the shrieking, screaming, ear bursting noise died away.

The woman listened to the reports from other stations, and began speaking as she listened. ‘Port nacelle buckled and non-functional. Two more dead in engineering. No serious damage there. The rest of the ship’s okay.’

Uhura punched up a view from the back of the saucer section, showing the two nacelles. The starboard one was clean and undamaged, but the port was streaked with a dull rusty-red colour, and the end looked as if it had been melted away. The communications officer wished she could utter a burning curse at this point, but Scotty did it for her, strung in with a good deal more - some that Uhura had never even heard of.

‘How dare they do that to my _Enterprise_?’ he continued, under his breath, with a sudden white-faced calmness that shocked even himself. ‘And how dare they take the lives of people who’ve done no harm to anyone?’

‘Scotty, I’m receiving transmission from a scout ship, Lynx,’ Uhura told him. ‘They were in the area. I’m relaying our position and situation now. They’re proceeding towards us with all speed. Should be here in ten minutes.’

‘Sir, they’re firing again,’ Riley interrupted. ‘Jerking away saved most of the ship, but we haven’t the power to do it again. No power at all for shields, either.’

‘Then we better say our prayers,’ Scott said grimly, watching the approaching blue fire with a cold hatred. ‘That pretty ball o’ fire won’t sit around ten minutes waiting for our help to arrive.’

Everyone sat tensely, waiting for the end, and waiting with a rapidly fading hope that Scotty would come up with some brilliant, ingenious idea to save them. Then a yellow glow caught up with the blue one and engulfed it, and they both slowly faded away. A huge silver and blue grandmother of all ships appeared directly behind the  _Enterprise_ as its cloak dropped, making the white Federation starship look like a dinky toy. Scott opened his mouth to say something, but the happenings on the viewscreen stopped him.

Something was splitting the gargantuan enemy ship in half, in half again, and again. Bright yellow beams were being emitted from somewhere on the planet far behind, slicing through the Pzyioman ship as phaser beams would go through butter. Uhura gasped, and felt a twisting, queasy sickness in the pit of her stomach, as she saw the ship being ripped apart like scrap metal in a starship graveyard.

Tiny humanoid forms tumbled out into space, clutching out at nothing with desperate empty hands in their terrible panic, gasping for breath like fishes taken from the sea. Everyone watched silently as space froze them and sucked the air from their brittle lungs. Then each body glowed and disappeared as the yellow beam closed around it, followed by each part of the minced up spaceship. Then another beam - green this time - reached out towards the  _Enterprise_ , and Uhura unwittingly screamed.

‘It’s all right, lass,’ Scotty said, coming to her chair. ‘Steady on. There’s nothing we can do to get away from it, and it’s not the same beam that cut up that great hunk of metal.’

The beam touched the ship, spreading over it until the viewscreen showed only dim green light, filling the bridge. And the  _Enterprise_ began to move backwards, back towards Vulcan!

Karpova turned from Spock’s science station. ‘Sir, our power levels are increasing,’ she said, her voice filled with amazement. ‘Ze rip in deck six is closing, and air coming in. Life forms are beginning to show zere again. Readings increasing. Now it’s stopped. 54 people are alive in zere.’

‘What the devil’s happening?’ Scott asked.

‘Vhatever it is, it’s saving lives,’ the woman told him. ‘Maybe ve should not ask too much about it. Just thank our lucky moons.’

‘Stars. Aye, maybe,’ Scotty sighed, returning to his chair.

‘Power is increasing to normal levels,’ the science officer reported. ‘And ze increase is smoothing out. Ze port nacelle is still wrecked though, sir. Ve only have impulse power. Ve try to use varp and ve’ll either blow up or just go around in circles.’

The tractor beam shortened away as the planet Vulcan appeared in the screen, and  _Enterprise_ was greeted by a smaller ship belonging to the Vulcan space service, with the Federation scout ship, Lynx, following. Uhura hastily began trying to hail that Starfleet ship, the Vulcan ship, and the Vulcan authorities on the planet, all at one time.

‘Sir.’ Kevin Riley was staring at the image of Vulcan, as the tractor beam retreated to the planet’s surface. ‘That beam came from around where that Vulcan monument the captain’s trapped in, is. Do you think he - ?’

‘Not even Captain Kirk could do that, lad,’ Scott said with conviction. ‘Even if he could, he wouldn’t have killed the Pzyiomans like that. Lieutenant Uhura, organise for Vulcan to send up help. We need to repair that nacelle.’

‘Aye, aye, Scotty,’ she smiled.

******

Kirk, Spock and Chekov had just about reached their limit of climbing endless, dark staircases when a door appeared in front of them. Spock saw it first, and pointed up into the gloom, at the indistinct shape a hundred metres above.

‘It is a door, Captain,’ he confirmed. ‘The Pzyiomans must have already passed through.’

They began to climb hurriedly now, eager to reach the door that hopefully signified the end of the terrible stairs. Spock touched the handle cautiously, and twisted it. He silently opened the door a crack and the steps were flooded with light – with natural, bright sunlight. Kirk blinked, looking through the slit, and trying to adjust his eyes quickly to the new brightness. He saw a large, round room, every part of the walls and ceiling made of glass.

‘One cannot see in from outside,’ Spock murmured, with curiosity in his voice. ‘It must be a one way screen.’

‘Sir.’ Chekov was pointing over to one of the huge windows. ‘The Pzyiomans.’

The six aliens were standing at the window, staring out of it, while one spoke through a communicator. Spock quickly activated the universal translator, and plugged an ear piece into his ear.

‘They are ordering equipment to be transported down,’ he relayed to Kirk. ‘The device which they will use to attack all planets. The windows here are apparently composed of a some kind of crystal. It acts as a focus - this is where all the electrical currents that the phaisarmium intensify, end up. The power will be spread by it.’

Then there was the noise of a transporter, and an enormous machine materialised in the centre of the room, flanked by more Pzyioman officers. The machine sat directly below the highest point in the ceiling.

‘This room must be the top of the mid-peak,’ Spock whispered. ‘The highest point in the entire structure.’

‘Spock, we can’t stop them,’ Kirk whispered in desperation. ‘Here we are watching them, and we can’t stop them. They’re going to devastate the galaxy.’

‘Could we attempt a physical attack?’ Spock mused.

‘Just as many women as men,’ Kirk murmured. ‘That might even things up a bit, Spock.’

Spock glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. ‘It is illogical to assume that the females of an alien species would be weaker than the males. On many planets the opposite is true. They may be of equal strength, or stronger. The very fact that there is such equality in so aggressive a breed of people indicates that there would be equality of physical strength.’

‘All right, Spock,’ Kirk said irritably, shaking his head. ‘Thank you.’

‘But we could attempt to take them on, in unarmed combat,’ the Vulcan continued doubtfully.

‘There must be at least twenty of them,’ Kirk sighed. ‘We wouldn’t stand a chance. There’s nothing we can do.’

‘We can maybe play for time.’

An order was snapped, and a man stepped nearer a control panel on the machine.

‘They are preparing to activate the device,’ Spock mumbled.

‘No!’ snapped a loud voice, directly behind the captain’s ear.

‘Chekov!’ Kirk hissed, but the Russian had pushed past them and strode into the middle of the room. ‘Come back,’ Kirk urged.

‘He snatched the translator,’ Spock said helplessly. ‘That is the only weapon he has, and Chekov is not a diplomat.’

‘He’ll be killed.’

The aliens in the room had spun at the sharp voice, and Chekov was caught and surrounded as he tried to get to the machine. He lifted the translator to his mouth and spoke.

‘You cannot do this.’

‘I said we must play for time,’ Spock whispered. ‘Chekov has taken me up on that. There’s nothing we can do, Jim,’ he protested, pulling the captain back as Kirk tried to get through the door. ‘If they find out we’re here too there will be no chance of stopping them.’

‘I know,’ Kirk sighed, leaning back against the wall. ‘Damn fool,’ he cursed.

Chekov glanced around at the forty eyes staring back at him.

‘You cannot do this,’ he repeated. ‘You cannot enslave an entire galaxy.’

One woman stepped forward, and spoke.

‘And you will stop us?’ came the translation, in a neutral, computerised voice. ‘How?’

‘I vill fight each one of you vith my bare hands if I need to.’

‘You? A human?’ The woman tore a metal ornament from a table, and bent it in her hand. ‘You cannot fight us. You cannot stop us.’

Chekov tried to rush at the control console on the great machine, to smash it, but ten pairs of hands held him back.

‘You vill never be able to control so many people,’ he said in a low voice. ‘There are people stronger than you in the galaxy.’

‘They will all be as helpless as babies. They pose no threat. Ignore this one. Activate the matter changer,’ she snapped, and a man stepped forward to the controls. Chekov struggled, but was punched hard in the face, and Kirk winced at the sickening crack. The Russian was thrown to the floor, and he lay still. Some of the aliens kicked out at him, or hit him with their fists, but the thick jacket Chekov was wearing for warmth protected him a little. They obviously saw him as so minimal a threat that they did not need to kill him. After a moment he clawed at the floor with one hand, and dragged himself under a table, away from the boots that stepped over him carelessly.

 


	14. Chapter 14

The Pzyiomans stood clustered about the massive machine, ignoring Chekov’s slumped form. The man at the controls leant over one of the panels, conversing with one of the other men, as if discussing exactly how to proceed. Chekov lay motionless under the table, evidently conscious but recognising the benefit of staying as unnoticeable as possible. Then, silently and abruptly, a shimmering, transparent screen lowered over the table, and another lowered to block the doorway.

‘What’s that?’ Kirk whispered.

‘I don’t believe it is the Pzyiomans’ doing,’ Spock said in a curious tone.

None of the aliens seemed to have noticed the materialisation of the forcefields, as absorbed as they were in their work. Each one of them seemed to be focussed entirely on the machine in the centre of the room.

‘Then what’s this tomb going to throw at us now?’ Kirk wondered apprehensively.

He watched through the forcefield with silent, prickling horror as a Pzyioman officer threw a switch. There was a high pitched whine, and a beam began to spread out of the top of the machine, growing gradually wider. It touched the ceiling - and rebounded.

‘Spock!’ Kirk exclaimed.

The Pzyiomans had dropped to the floor as one, and were writhing there, screaming with pain, as each one was touched by the widening beam.

‘Chekov!’ Kirk hissed in horror. ‘He’ll be killed.’

‘He is protected,’ Spock realised. ‘The screen protects him, as it protects us.’

He turned away as the shapes of the aliens grew more deformed, too horrible to look at. Then the noise rose to a crescendo, and each person disintegrated, turning into nothing. Spock turned his face back to the room, and saw the machine pulsing with an orange light, that steadily grew brighter.

‘It may explode, Jim,’ he warned. ‘We should retreat down the stairs.’

‘What about Chekov?’ Kirk reached out at the shimmering screen, but it was impervious to his touch. ‘I’m not leaving, Spock. If that screen protects him it’ll protect us.’

The orange light turned to pink, then to a white that hurt to the eyes. Kirk covered his ears from the noise, trying not to look, but having to look. The light reached an agonising brightness, then disappeared, taking the machine with it. The screen shimmered away, and Kirk stepped cautiously into the room.

‘Cooked in their own juice,’ he muttered.

‘I beg your pardon, sir?’ Spock asked.

‘I mean, they were destroyed by the very weapon that they were going to destroy us with.’

‘But why were we not ‘cooked’?’ Spock wondered. ‘Why were we spared?’

‘Be glad we were,’ Kirk said firmly. ‘I think it’s safer not to argue.’

Spock bent and gently moved Chekov out from under the table. He took the medical kit from his bag and scanned the man quickly.

‘There is no evidence of concussion, and the thermal jacket protected the body. He is suffering from severe contusions of the lower jaw,’ he diagnosed.

‘You mean he had a smack in the mouth,’ Kirk smiled.

‘I mean what I say, sir. It was a very hard smack.’

Chekov shook his head and opened his eyes, as the Vulcan sprayed a soothing liquid onto the bruises.

‘Far too hard,’ he said, trying to sit up.

‘Pavel, I should have you court-martialled for what you did,’ Kirk said affectionately. ‘It’s lucky for you we’re trapped in here, or you’d be in the brig.’

‘I had to do something, sir,’ he protested. ‘I have a dinner date vith a wery pretty Russian lady. I could not let these Pzyiomans take over the galaxy.’

Seeing Chekov was no longer in need of attention, Spock stood up and went to one of the windows. He gazed up at the red sky, squinting into the brightness of the sun.

‘It is midday, Captain,’ he commented. ‘The sun is at its zenith – and yet no heat permeates the glass. It would be interesting to analyse a sample of the crystal of which the windows are made.’

Then something else caught the Vulcan’s attention, and he stared down to the ground far below. He could see people scurrying about like ants, appearing to be the size of ants, investigating something on the ground.

‘I believe the machine and its victims have been transported to the outside,’ he said, turning to Kirk.

‘Great,’ Kirk said sarcastically. ‘Then the only way to get out of here is dead.’ He opened his communicator. ‘Kirk to _Enterprise_.’

‘Scott here, sir,’ came a flustered, worry-taut voice. ‘I’m sorry, Captain. I’ve damaged your ship. We were attacked by the Pzyioman ship.’

‘Just as long as we won, and the crew are safe, Scotty,’ Kirk said quickly, but he glanced at Spock with a worried expression.

‘Captain, twenty-nine are dead,’ Scott said quietly. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated.

Kirk stared at the floor, hearing the grief in Scott’s voice, and trying to compartmentalise his own grief and concern over the loss of twenty-nine unnamed crewmembers. It would not do to start asking for names right now. As captain, he did not have the privilege of valuing certain crewmembers above others in a personal capacity – or at least, not expressing those feelings publicly.

‘What happened to the enemy vessel?’ he asked.

There was a silence, then, ‘I don’t know, Captain. Something cut it apart. Then – one moment it was there, then it wasn’t there. Something made every fragment fade away into non-existence. Then something grabbed us in a tractor beam and pulled us back here. It repaired some of the ship and brought fifty-four people back to life! We think the beam came from – ’

‘I’ve a fair idea where it came from,’ Kirk interrupted grimly. ‘This Pnauh’Kmaghe is more powerful than any of us imagined. There were Pzyiomans here, ready to activate the weapon. It backfired on them – killed them all. Scotty, can you put me through to anyone on the ground?’

‘Aye, sir. Commander Garnet. She’s controlling operations down there.’

There was a noise of switches being pressed, then a clipped, efficient sounding female voice.

‘Garnet here.’

‘This is Captain Kirk. We are in the top of the mid-peak. We can see out. We can see everyone down there. Is there any way of getting us out?’

‘One moment, sir. Let me pass you to someone who may know.’

Then another female voice came on – this time softer, but very precise.

‘Lieutenant T’Sana, Captain Kirk.’

‘You’re Vulcan?’ Kirk enquired.

‘Yes, sir,’ the woman said. ‘I am an expert on this structure. I am afraid we have no means of retracting you from the mid-peak. It is protected by a force field too great to penetrate. Phaser attacks would be totally ineffective, if not catastrophic. The defence system could kill everyone inside and outside the building.’

‘There’s no way you can get us out?’ Kirk asked.

‘No, sir,’ she said flatly, ‘and no one has been able to enter the way you did. That area is now also covered by force field. I would suggest that you attempt to discover a means of extracting yourselves from inside. The kings would have - ’

‘Yes. Commander Spock has told me all about that,’ Kirk interrupted. ‘It’s obvious we’re going to have to do it all ourselves. Kirk out.’ He snapped the communicator shut. ‘Damn blast it.’

‘I see no need for profanities, sir,’ Spock protested. ‘We were already expecting that we would have to find a way out ourselves.’

‘It’s looking out through that window,’ Kirk said in frustration, gesturing uselessly at the clear crystal. ‘Seeing them, and not being able to get out. We’re so _close_ , Spock.’

‘We do know that we are directly above the centre now, Captain, where the king’s chamber will be.’

‘That’s fine, but how do we get to it?’

‘Ve pray,’ Chekov shrugged.

Spock gave him a look of reproof.

‘By long, painstaking exploration, Captain,’ he said. ‘As long as provisions can be beamed in to us, then we have no time limit.’

Then he stiffened, an ear cocked toward the ceiling.

‘Jim, what’s that?’

Kirk immediately grabbed for his oxygen mask, but stopped, as a strange feeling caught him in the middle of his stomach. He wondered if he was going to faint, as the scene in front of him swum, then it changed, solidified, and the feeling faded away.

‘Spock?’ he asked his science officer immediately, momentarily blinded by the change in light levels.

‘We were caught by a transporter of some kind,’ Spock told him, looking around. ‘Captain, I believe we are in the king’s chamber!’

‘It looks like it,’ Kirk said, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the lower light level. He stepped forward, staring at ten ornate coffins that lay along the middle of the cavernous, richly decorated room. ‘The ten kings.’

Spock hurriedly adjusted his tricorder to strengthen the signal it sent through the thick tomb’s walls. He began recording again, and transmitting the pictures to the people outside.

‘This is fascinating,’ he said in a quiet voice, truly awed. ‘This is the goal that many Vulcans never will reach. To enter Pnauh’Kmaghe and find the chamber where the kings lie… This writing - ’ Spock pointed at the gold writing that covered the walls. ‘It solves unsolved mysteries, unlocks doors. This is the whole of the forgotten Vulcan history. After the line of kings came to an end, a new power came into control. The ruler ordered the burning of all books - all memories of these people. The only clues we had were a few hidden documents, and stories handed down and muddled by the generations. Now it is all here, laid out before us.’

‘Don’t get too emotional over it,’ Kirk muttered. ‘We still have to get out - alive.’

‘Emotional, sir?’ Spock asked stiffly, his distraction suddenly disappearing. ‘I am not emotional. I simply find it fascinating.’

‘Sir.’ Chekov was beckoning from beside the last coffin. ‘This one - the lid is not closed properly.’

Spock strode quickly to his side, and read the words on the golden slab on the top, that lay slightly askew.

‘This is where Suaniak lies,’ he said in a hushed voice. ‘He was the last of the ten kings.’

‘Are you sure he still lies there, Mr Spock?’ Chekov asked nervously.

‘He is dead, Ensign, and the tomb was sealed to all people after he died. He would not have lifted the lid himself,’ Spock said in a withering tone.

‘Are we going to open it, Spock?’ Kirk asked him.

‘This is a dead man’s grave,’ Spock began hesitantly – but Kirk could see the flicker of intrigue in his eyes. ‘But – it is of tremendous scientific interest,’ he continued, his hand straying towards the gap between the coffin lid and body. ‘The body will, no doubt, be preserved.’

He ran his fingers along the edge of the lid, considering it carefully.

‘It is strange,’ he mused. ‘All the other coffins have been sealed with molten metal. This one has obviously never been sealed. It was never closed properly. According to my tricorder, this gold here, exposed by the offsetting of the lid, has been exposed for the same amount of time as the outer surfaces of the coffin. It is a somewhat interesting mystery.’

His scientific curiosity decided for him. Without further words, he put his hands to the edge, and pushed. The lid slid less than a centimetre before Spock was forced to give up.

‘There must be – a large amount of gold in this lid, Captain,’ he gasped. ‘I can hardly move it.’

‘Chekov,’ Kirk beckoned, and they all put their hands to the slab.

The lid moved a little more, and again, until finally Spock could shine a torch into the blackness. He almost jumped back from the sight that met his eyes.

‘Totally preserved,’ he said, unaware that his voice had dropped to a whisper. ‘He lies there the same as the day he died.’

He scanned the youthful body, then stripped his gloves off. He cautiously reached a hand into the silk-lined coffin, and drew back the eyelids, fascinated to see what eyes would look back at him. They were cold, stone grey – but they were perfect, and they stared at him blindly.

‘For God’s sake, shut them,’ Kirk urged, shuddering. ‘I can’t stand here with him staring at me like that. It’s bad enough to be doing this to his grave.’

Spock gently pushed the eyelids closed again, and turned to the thick black robe that the body wore. He unfolded the fragile, ancient material from the body, and saw that the rest of the corpse was preserved perfectly. Then he closed the robe respectfully, and stood back, muttering something in Vulcan.

‘Captain, this body is so perfectly preserved, it is almost as if it could get up and walk,’ he said, his eyes alight with interest. ‘It is a scientific miracle. Suaniak must have been only thirty when he died - when he was murdered - and he still looks that young. I did not know that these kings were so ingenious. Vulcan must have regressed hugely after their reign. Development was set back a thousand years. But these people obviously had techniques that far surpass ours, for building and this amazing body preservation. They could teach us so much.’

He reached out a hand to the coffin lid, and ran a finger over a round pattern that was cast in the metal. Then he touched a huge sapphire-like stone that was set in the centre of the slab.

‘Who are you?’

The voice paralysed the three men in the room. It echoed out of the ceiling, sounding hollow in the huge chamber. And it was too real. There was no hint of computerisation, and it was definitely not coming through a communicator.

‘Who are you?’ it repeated.

Spock shook himself. ‘Who are  _you_ ?’ he asked, coming straight to the point.

‘Insolence!’ the voice snapped. ‘I could have you struck dead, if I did not have so much to learn from you. I am Suaniak of Vulcan.’

Spock’s mouth fell open, mirroring Kirk and Chekov. Then the Vulcan became aware of the unseemly expression, and snapped his mouth shut again. He pushed the shock aside, and forced reason to take over.

‘Suaniak of Vulcan lies centuries dead in his coffin.’

‘In body only. Your belief is not important, for I am Suaniak. Who are you to be opening my coffin?’ the voice continued. ‘To be touching my body?’

‘Sir.’ Spock bowed his head, and took a step away from the coffin. ‘I am Commander Spock, of Vulcan, a distant descendant of the ten kings. Those with me are Kirk, my captain, and Ensign Chekov, a crew member of our starship.’

The voice took on a note of wonder. ‘You own a ship that can travel between the stars?’

‘People have been travelling in space for a long time,’ Kirk said softly.

‘You are not Vulcan. None of you are Vulcan,’ Suaniak snapped. ‘What strange creatures are you? Are you demons, with your pink flesh and rounded ears?’

‘I am Vulcan,’ Spock protested.

‘You are not like me. You are not Vulcan.’

Spock looked down at the floor, wondering how to explain.

‘Suaniak, I _am_ Vulcan,’ he said. ‘These people with me are human. Centuries ago Vulcans created starships to travel between planets. We discovered humans, and joined with them. Now there is a Federation of hundreds of different humanoids, from hundreds of different planets. Humans come from Earth, from a planet orbiting Sol - the star we call Feth, in the constellation of Gel’dantaran. My mother is a woman from Earth. My father is Sarek, and a blood descendant of Suaniak, the tenth king.’

‘Then you are my child, Spock,’ the voice said solemnly.

Spock stared at his feet, deciding that humility would be safest response.

‘Yes, Suaniak. I am your son.’

‘Then you are the child born of no mother,’ he continued in wonder. ‘You have been a puzzle to me over many years. How may a child be born of no woman? Are you sent from the gods?’

‘I am a mortal Vulcan, and I do have a mother,’ Spock said, trying to keep his tone as agreeable as possible.

‘There is no woman on Vulcan that bore you.’

‘There is no woman _of_ Vulcan that bore me, Suaniak,’ Spock corrected him. ‘My mother is human – from Earth, as I said, but she resides here, on Vulcan.’

‘And shall I kill these human creatures with you, who travel with you into my tomb?’

‘Spock!’ Kirk grabbed hold of Spock’s arm.

‘Suaniak, these humans are my friends,’ Spock said calmly.

‘You say that the taller one is your captain. How can your captain also be your friend? How can your subordinate be your friend?’

‘It is possible, if one respects the other.’

‘Then they will live, for now,’ Suaniak decided.

‘Suaniak.’ Spock stared up at the ceiling, trying to work out where the voice was coming from. ‘Suaniak. You died long ago. How is it that we hear your voice?’

‘I created a receptacle, my child, to receive my soul once I passed away. I did not know if it would work - but it does. I have been here for thousands of years, waiting and learning, developing my mind. I have a small view of your world. Sometimes I hear signals passed from one to another – conversations which give me an idea of your time, but – I am alone...’

‘Sir, would you be willing to let us take your receptacle out of here?’ Spock asked quickly. ‘We could house you in a place where you could learn more of our time, and speak of your years to us.’

‘I have transmitted all my information into the device you send signals with. You call it Tricorder. The ones outside have received all signals. I do not wish to be moved from my home. Now there is no need for your devices.’

‘Suaniak!’ Spock snapped, but all their mechanical devices faded and disappeared into nothing.

‘Tell me, my child, what are you doing here?’ the voice asked. ‘Why did you enter this place?’

‘I touched the wall of your tomb,’ Spock explained. ‘A door opened, and we were drawn inside.’

‘Then you touched a door for the mourners to enter by, and took the mourners’ path. It will not open again.’

‘We know that there is force field over it now,’ Spock told him. ‘We apologise for violating your grave, but we had little choice.’

‘It was unfortunate, for now one of you must die,’ Suaniak said calmly.

‘What?’ Kirk exclaimed. ‘Why? For letting one of your traps drag us in here?’

‘You entered my tomb.’

‘We didn’t enter!’ Kirk protested. ‘We didn’t _want_ to come in here. The damn thing stopped us from moving and pulled us in. We’re not going to just let you kill us. You’ve already had a pretty good try, and we survived. You can’t kill us now!’

‘I can easily kill all of you in an instant,’ Suaniak countered calmly. ‘You only have to decide which is to die, and the method. Reduction is not a dignified method - but death is not a dignified thing. There is the choice of electric shock.’

‘But vhy does one of us have to die?’ Chekov asked heatedly.

‘The only reason for being in Pnauh’Kmaghe is because you are the dead, or one of the funeral procession. One of you must offer yourself as the dead, and the others - the mourners, will be released. It is as it must be.’

Kirk stepped forward, looking up toward the ceiling with a resolute expression on his face.

‘If there is no choice, I offer myself.’

‘No, Jim,’ Spock said quietly. ‘Suaniak. I am a son of the ten kings. I am a prince of the kingdom. I offer myself as the dead.’

‘No, Spock,’ Kirk hissed.

‘Mr Spock,’ Chekov protested. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘Jim.’ Spock turned to face his captain. ‘I am deadly serious. I am the descendant of these people, and I have seen more years than both of you. If any one of us should be sacrificed, it is I. This should be my grave, not yours.’

‘I can’t stop you, Spock,’ Kirk said reluctantly. He had seen that expression on Spock’s face before, and knew that he almost always got his way, by some means. ‘But - ’

‘Then you must leave - now, Captain.’

‘No. I’m not going until the last moment.’

‘Jim, this _is_ the last moment,’ Spock said softly.

‘Spock, I’m not just leaving you to be murdered by some voice in the ceiling!’ his captain exclaimed. ‘I won’t let you die alone.’

Spock shook his head. ‘I won’t be alone, Captain.’

‘You will respect the wishes of the near-dead,’ Suaniak commanded.

There was a faint hum, and Spock looked down as a phaser materialised in his hand. He nodded, and set the force to stun, then aimed the weapon unwaveringly at the two men.

‘Captain, you must leave. I _will_ stun you so as to ensure your safety.’

‘Then you will have to stun us,’ Kirk said firmly, not wanting to believe that Spock would do it. Then he saw the determined glint in his first officer’s eyes, and the finger slowly pressing down over the trigger. ‘All right, Spock,’ he nodded. ‘All right. We’ll go. Come on, Chekov.’

‘Captain.’ Spock’s voice swung him around again. ‘Jim. You will take care of T’Si? Ensure she is given a good home?’

‘Of course I will.’ Kirk realised that he was seeing sadness, and a tiny speck of fear in the brown eyes now. He walked back quickly, to do what he had never quite dared to, and give his friend a warm hug. ‘Goodbye, Spock.’

Spock held up his hand solemnly in the Vulcan salute. ‘Live long and prosper, Captain Kirk.’

‘You too, Spock.’

He turned around quickly, realising the foolishness of what he had just said, and strode resolutely towards the large, magnificent doors, beckoning Chekov to follow. Just as they reached them, there was a transporter hum, and both men materialised outside the huge monument, right beside a distraught Dr McCoy.

‘Jim!’ he exclaimed whipping around. ‘Jim, thank God. When all the signals went dead we thought we’d lost you.’ Then he looked around, and back to Kirk’s pale, tired face. ‘Jim, where’s Spock?’

‘One of us had to stay behind,’ Kirk said shortly, and walked away very quickly, as Vulcan scientists and assorted _Enterprise_ crewmen came towards him, chattering excitedly.

‘What happened, Chekov?’ the doctor asked urgently. ‘Is – is Spock dead?’

The ensign shook his head.

‘I – do not know. It vas a choice,’ he explained quietly. ‘Someone had to offer themselves to die, so the others vould be released as mourners. Mr Spock wolunteered.’

‘I think there’s going to be a great deal of mourning,’ McCoy decided, glancing at the corner of the building that Kirk had disappeared behind. ‘Does the captain think that’s it, then? There’s nothing we can do?’

Chekov shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said dully. ‘Ve can’t get in there to him, he can’t get out… But he vasn’t dead vhen ve left,’ he continued hopefully. ‘He made us leave first.’

‘Trust that pig-headed Vulcan,’ McCoy muttered. ‘He knows Jim couldn’t watch him die like that.’

‘Ve had to leave him in a great tomb,’ Chekov said miserably, kicking at a patch of russet sand with his boot. ‘It is like burying somebody alive, to leave them in their grave.’ Then he raised his head again, looking a little more hopeful. ‘But he _was_ still alive.’

‘I know Spock could talk his way out of anything,’ McCoy said glumly. ‘But I don’t know that he’s any match for a Vulcan king who’s had nothing to do but develop his mind since he died. God _dammit_ , I’m going to miss all that computerised logic,’ he said fiercely, turning his face briefly away from Chekov as he passed his hand over his eyes. ‘Chekov, will you keep all these people away from the captain?’ he asked, turning back to him. ‘I’ll get him back up to the ship.’

He took one long look at the walls of the huge monument, then deliberately tore his eyes away from the tomb’s magnificent bulk, and strode off to join Kirk.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Spock watched the figures of Captain Kirk and Ensign Chekov slowly growing fainter, until they had faded completely, then he turned around to face the tombs again, before he could become overwhelmed by the great sense of loneliness he suddenly felt. This place seemed twice as large now he was alone, and facing death.

‘Suaniak,’ he said loudly. His voice sounded frail and insignificant in the enormous room. ‘How shall I die?’

‘You have a choice,’ Suaniak intoned. ‘You could be reduced, or given a fatal electric shock. I could disturb the structure of every cell in your body. I could put you to sleep, very slowly, and peacefully. You could break your own neck. It is enough that you die, my son. The means is not important.’

Spock tilted an eyebrow upward.

‘You call me son, and yet you will still kill me. That is not the action of a father.’

Suaniak’s voice seemed to resonate a little more strongly in the huge chamber. ‘One person must die. All of the aliens from the furthest sun are dead - and those on their ship no longer exist. You are the last of your group. You must die.’

‘Why?’ Spock insisted. ‘Why is it so important?’

‘There is a text on the wall, behind the coffins. Read it aloud, son, so I may hear it too.’

Spock turned to the wall, and saw the Vulcan writing. He began to read out loud.

‘In many sun cycles men will come. A party of good, with an evil element, and a party of evil, with no good in them. All evil must be destroyed, or the stars will perish - ’

‘I have destroyed the evil,’ Suaniak reminded him. ‘Read on.’

‘Three will remain, attempting to journey to the centre of Pnauh’Kmaghe, to seek out a method of returning home. One will be of the home planet, two of a far distant home. Their entry to the grave is sacrilege, and one must die, as a lesson to all others. There are only two kinds permitted in Pnauh’Kmaghe - the dead, and the mourners. For there to be mourners, there must be newly blossomed death. The choice of the death must be made by the one who remains, and by the one who controls, but death must occur.’

‘Death _has_ occurred,’ Spock reminded him.

‘And do you mourn that death, my child?’

Spock shook his head. ‘I do not,’ he said honestly. ‘I am grateful of it.’

‘And prophecy is fulfilled,’ Suaniak said proudly. ‘It was written a hundred years before the first great king was born, and this structure was built to house our bodies as we passed. Each prophecy came about as the proper time arrived.’

‘Are there more?’ Spock asked, partially because of his personal interest, but partly also because he was aware that the longer he engaged Suaniak in conversation the longer he would be permitted to live. ‘Are there prophecies that speak of times beyond this one?’

‘There are, but you are not permitted to lay your eyes on them. They would inform you of what is to come.’

‘Has everything written here come true?’ he asked curiously.

‘Every writing has come into true existence,’ Suaniak confirmed. ‘It was written of a time when Vulcans would put aside their passionate natures, and become servants of logic. That happened.’

Spock nodded.

‘But obviously you do not know everything of modern Vulcan. You do not know of the other planets. You did not know of humans.’

‘I am aware of other celestial spheres,’ Suaniak said grandly. ‘But the coming of humans was not predicted. They are weaker than Vulcans – they are obviously of little value.’

‘Humans are of great value, as is every life form,’ Spock said gravely. ‘I, a son of the ten kings of Vulcan, owe my very existence to humans. Suaniak, do you know who wrote these predictions?’

‘They were written a hundred years before the first king – and much longer before the time that I came into being. It is not known who wrote these things. It is unimportant.’

‘Knowledge of the facts is invariably important - to a scientist such as myself,’ Spock pointed out. ‘It would be interesting to know how this person – or persons, knew. You do not know the methods used to predict future events?’

‘There were Vulcans in my time - many of them the women - who were sensitive and special. They could predict events with great accuracy, of the near, and the distant future. We respected these people. They were sent to us by the gods and we made none of them slaves, although much of the population was enslaved. After our rule was ended, owned citizens became jealous of these people who were not noble, but were protected from slavery. They were hunted – called witches, and killed horribly. It made the gods angry. They caused the ground to burn where the murdered blood spilt onto it, and they starved the Vulcan minds. We were progressing rapidly, in some ways surpassing the civilisation you have now, but the minds were halted in their brightness, for the gods decided we still had more to learn before we could be allowed to create more powerful vessels and travel to distant planets.’

‘That seems very wise,’ Spock said approvingly, declining to give his point of view on the existence of supernatural deities. The longer he could engage Suaniak in conversation, the better.

‘Some of future predictors hid their talents, and survived, so some exist today. I can feel their minds, but there are not many now. I doubt they even know of their talent.’

‘Suaniak, why did the people submit so easily to slavery?’ Spock asked, turning to examine some of the many murals that interspersed the writing on the walls. ‘Were there not protests, revolutions?’

‘It was their only destiny,’ Suaniak said as if the answer was obvious. ‘They were born into it. Almost all of the people were slaves. They were not worthy to be free men. We fed them, we housed them, we whipped them when they were insolent and did not work hard enough. It bred a good, obedient people. They learned that they had to work for a good life, and pay respect to their betters.’

‘And when your reign ended?’

‘Just as it was their destiny to be enslaved, at that time it was their destiny to be freed. It was predicted that that would happen, but the slavery had ordered their minds. It made them develop into wiser people. Vulcans would not have such brilliant minds, if their ancestors had not suffered as slaves.’

‘I see.’ Spock hesitated. He knew he had so many more questions, and so many things to tell Suaniak, but he was running out of words, and didn’t know what to say next. He turned and walked down to the first coffin in the row. ‘Syeniuk,’ he muttered. ‘The first king. Suaniak, were your consorts not buried with you? They were not buried with the slaves?’

‘There was such a wailing then,’ Suaniak remembered. ‘The consorts were buried in the queen’s chamber. Many thought that the bodies should lie together, but separate rooms were built, and it was said that they must lie separate from their husbands. Some considered it wrong to part two lovers forever.’

‘Did you not consider it wrong to kill the one you love?’ Spock asked.

‘It was written that that should happen,’ Suaniak said. Spock wondered how different Vulcan culture would have become without such slavish adherence to these prophecies. ‘I did not want my beautiful T’Sura to die - I loved her and worshipped her as if she was one of the stars in the sky. But once I was dead there was no choice. But there is still a hope left. Son, you must assist me.’

‘Assist?’ Spock asked curiously.

‘My consort. My T’Sura. Her spirit was that of a flower in the cool of dawn. I could not lose her. I hold her Katra in mine.’

Spock raised an eyebrow. ‘Your wife is alive?’

‘She is as in death. Sleeping in darkness and in silence. I do not touch her Katra. I am only aware of its being in mine. I took it before I died, to keep her alive in death, and I cannot awake her alone. I may release her living spirit into a receptacle, for her to live once more, but mortal hands are needed to do so. When I planned it, I was alive. I did not think as an immortal Katra.’

‘You wish me to help you, though you will kill me?’

‘I do not believe you are such to refuse, son,’ Suaniak chided him. ‘You would not engage in such spite.’

Spock looked down at his feet. It was illogical to refuse to bring the two together simply because he would be killed. It would be a petty revenge.

‘I will help you, father of all,’ he decided. ‘What must I do?’

‘Lay your hands on my coffin and recite the words I have put into your mind.’

Spock nodded solemnly, and rested both his hands on the coffin lid. Then he recited a long and complicated chant that he simply seemed to know. He stood back, and raised his head.

‘It is done, father of all.’

There was a long pause, the Suaniak’s voice spoke. For once, he sounded tentative and nervous.

‘T’Sura?’

Then a voice spoke that Spock thought was as soft and beautiful as a gentle breeze.

‘It is I.’

Spock blinked. How could he think such an emotional thing? The voice was a voice, that was all. Was it that Suaniak’s mind, powerful and all-surrounding as it was, was affecting his own thoughts?

‘Do you remember, T’Sura?’ Suaniak asked. ‘Do you see my mind? Do you know my voice?’

‘Yes. I think... It touches me, strangely, distantly. It comes closer, slowly...’ There was quiet for a long time, then, ‘Suaniak? Husband?’ Then, as if in realisation, ‘You are my consort.’

‘My beautiful wife,’ Suaniak sighed. ‘You are awakened. Much will be forgotten and confused after such a sleep, but together we will remember.’

‘I remember our love.’

Spock’s face burned, and he tried to block the words from his ears. When his eyes closed, he thought he saw the two Vulcans, coming together at last, dressed in beautiful clothes, with faces even more beautiful, the expressions ones of joy, sadness, a pitiful look of disjointedness and disorientation in the woman, and love in them both.

_Illogical. I am truly going mad_ , Spock told himself.  _Or I am truly infected by Suaniak’s mind._ He snapped his eyes open, and rubbed them hard with his fists.

‘She is sleeping,’ Suaniak announced. ‘Such a shock of awakening has left her exhausted. She has always been delicate.’

‘She is indeed a flower of the dawn,’ Spock said softly. ‘I saw her image. I believe I did see both of your images.’

‘Our Katras are strong, son. You saw, as I saw her face.’

‘It is illogical,’ Spock said firmly. ‘It is illogical to believe in visions and prophecies. Everything that has been taught to me under the rules of logic would refuse the possibility of the existence of the image.’

‘Love is deeper than any logic, son.’

‘It is good that you are together,’ he said diplomatically. ‘It must have taken great patience for you to wait for so long.’

‘It took much patience to quietly pass the hour of my death, knowing that my lovely T’Sura would be killed, even though it was only in body that she was killed. I remember the funeral of my parents. My father was laid to rest, and my mother allowed to watch, wailing with the other mourners - but she was bound and hobbled so she could not run. They took her to her coffin room, and there they let her be killed.’

‘How?’ Spock asked. He could only welcome another subject with which to prolong the conversation.

‘The executioner used a special tool, so no blood was shed outside the body. It was thrust into her mouth, and her internal organs were damaged so that she could not live. She wailed as she died, and I was not allowed to comfort her. Then death came, and they covered her in her coffin.’

‘And the slaves?’

‘A quicker, less respectful method. They were killed as you kill an animal.’

‘I know that their necks were broken, by Tal-shaya. But surely that would be more merciful to the queen?’

‘The method used gave her more life. She lived for ten minutes after the thrust.’

‘In terrible pain,’ Spock pointed out critically.

‘It was written, and it had to be carried out. The slaves were taken to their graves alive. The less obedient were put in first, alive, then the others were killed with the animals and laid in the tomb upon the live slaves. I remember the screams - the terrified cries of the live slaves at the thought of dying slowly of hunger or suffocation among the dead bodies. There were more than five thousand slaves for each king who died. They are not all housed in one room.’

‘And they all had to die, because it was written?’

‘Vulcans were a passionate people. There were more slaves bred than could be handled. Many had to die to ensure the lives of the others. When Vulcans were freed from slavery, they learned they must become responsible for their young, and their population.’

‘Suaniak, do you do everything that the prophecies command?’ Spock asked.

‘I must. It is destiny.’

‘And that is after you saw your mother killed in agony, five thousand adults and children put to death, your wife killed in the same manner, and buried apart from you. It is not logical to blindly follow prophecy when it creates such distress.’

‘You must die,’ the voice said harshly. ‘You cannot change that, and I cannot change that. It is regretful, for you are an intelligent being, and my son, but it is written.’

******

Kirk stared at the mystical black walls of Pnauh’Kmaghe, waiting with some forlorn hope that Spock’s body would be returned to the outside, like every other casualty had been so far. Beneath that more rational hope lay the less likely, more dearly wished for one, that the body rejected would not be quite dead.

‘Jim.’

The captain turned at a concerned voice behind him. McCoy stood holding out a cup of fresh coffee, with obvious worry in his blue eyes.

‘Jim, Spock is dead,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s no point in standing here waiting. If he does come out, you won’t want to see him like that – like all the others were.’

Kirk gulped down all of the drink without tasting it, or really realising he was drinking.

‘Suaniak said he would be killed with dignity,’ he said obstinately. ‘He won’t be mutilated, or burned. I’m not leaving until we get him back.’

‘Jim, please,’ McCoy urged. ‘You’ve been standing here all day. You’ve been out here a week. No. More than a week. It must be nigh on ten days. You’ll only end up with sunstroke, or hypothermia from these freezing nights. Spock’s dead by now and you have to accept that. They’re not going to return him to you. Please, come back to the ship.’

‘He might not be dead,’ Kirk said firmly.

‘Please,’ the doctor begged. ‘Stop torturing yourself like this. I cared about him too, Jim. God knows, that Vulcan meant as much to me as you do. Even if we did argue all the time, I still - ’

Kirk turned on him furiously.

‘Stop talking about him in the past tense,’ he blurted out before he could stop himself. ‘We don’t know he’s dead yet. You’re burying him before he’s even gone. You just can’t wait to get rid of him, can you?’

‘Jim!’

The captain shook his head, staring at his feet.

‘I’m sorry, Bones. I know that was uncalled for.’

‘Jim, I want him back, and I want him back alive, just as much as you do, but it won’t happen. You know that and I know that.’

‘I don’t know that. Spock is my friend. I’m not leaving.’

‘Jim, I know you’re upset, but - ’

‘You don’t understand, Bones,’ Kirk insisted. ‘You never can understand. Spock’s a brother, a father and a son to me, and more than that. More than anyone ever has been. He knows what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling. Always says the right thing, even when he knows I won’t like it. He’s a friend like – I don’t know – like he’s a part of me, closer than any lover ever could be. I can’t express that kind of friendship. Spock’s brought me back from death so many times. I can’t leave him now.’

‘There is nothing to leave,’ the doctor insisted. ‘Jim - ’

‘God, Bones, I just want him back,’ Kirk said, turning to the doctor in despair. ‘You can’t live with one half of you cut away from you.’

‘I know.’

McCoy put his arm out to comfort him, but Kirk turned away suddenly, angrily wiping his eyes.

‘What’s that noise?’ he asked abruptly.

‘Jim, you’ve been saying that since you got out of there.’

‘It’s a transporter.’

‘It’s your imagination,’ McCoy said, really worried.

‘Jim…’

Kirk spun at a faint, shaking voice, but the desert around was as empty and aching as he felt.

‘Bones, I heard him,’ he said. ‘I just heard him! He called my name.’

‘It’s your imagination,’ McCoy said firmly. ‘You keep ‘seeing’ him. You keep ‘hearing’ him, and you know he’s not there. You have to face it, Jim.’

‘No. He called my name. He did.’

Kirk turned again at a faint noise, and stared as a tall, blue-clad figure came around the corner of the building, tottering on weak, trembling legs.

‘Spock!’ Kirk shouted, running to him. ‘My God, Spock. You’re alive. How did you ever get out?’

McCoy stood staring for a moment, wondering if he was seeing the hallucinations of Kirk’s sun-soaked mind, but the figure seemed solid. It was wearing the bright blue Starfleet top, the black boots and trousers. It was dirty, dishevelled, and plainly and piteously exhausted. The hands fumbled at the top for a moment to pull the creases out, then it looked up and spoke.

‘By a somewhat lengthy, and exhausting process of negotiation. I would be grateful if you’d allow me to rest?’

‘Of course.’ The captain steadied Spock as all the colour drained from the man’s face. ‘You must be shattered. Bones, we need a stretcher.’

‘I can walk, sir,’ Spock insisted, and slid to his knees, then to the red sand as his legs gave way.

‘I’ve never known such a persistent liar as you,’ Kirk laughed.

‘Captain!’ Spock raised an eyebrow. ‘I did not lie. I was under the impression that I could walk.’

‘I know.’

Kirk knelt, and supported the Vulcan’s head on his lap. There was a week’s stubble on the man’s chin. Then the fact and the shock of his freedom hit the Vulcan. Spock closed his eyes, shaking, only just keeping back wild, illogical sobs and laughs of relief and trying not to break up completely. Kirk’s own relief was replaced with worry when he fully realised the terrible, hysterical state Spock was in.

‘Jim, am I alive?’ he asked anxiously, looking into Kirk’s face again. ‘Are you real? I feel – I’ve imagined so many things the past few days. It’s hard to know what is real.’

Kirk took his hand, trying to keep it from shaking. ‘You’re alive and I’m as real as you are, Spock.’

‘And McCoy?’ he asked, casting his head about. ‘Is Dr McCoy here too?’

‘Yes, Spock. I’m here,’ the doctor told him, squatting down to scan him. ‘You just try to stay calm, and let us take care of you.’

‘I will try. It is good - ’ Spock’s lips barely moved, but his voice was totally sincere. ‘It is good to be with someone who cares. To be with friends. You care.’

‘Of course we care,’ Kirk stressed. ‘We - ’ He looked at McCoy, then back to Spock, and said something he would have cringed to hear someone else say. ‘We love you, Spock. You’re our family. You know that.’

‘I know. It would not always be approved of here, but it is how I feel, too.’ He closed his eyes again, overcome with fatigue, and another surge of hysteria that was clouding his mind. He closed his hand over Kirk’s. ‘Jim, t’hy’la,’ he murmured. ‘Jim.’

Kirk smiled, returning the pressure. ‘I’m glad you’re back, Spock.’

The Vulcan trembled again, then laughed aloud.

‘I thought I was dying. He was – in my mind, and I couldn’t stop him. Fingering through my mind like a book… I had to let him... I - I - ’

He trailed off into a sentence of utter nonsense, then began to shake with sobs that were interjected with unintelligible Vulcan words, showing Kirk how ill he was. The Vulcan spoke such impeccable English, even in the depths of mind-meld, that it was hard for Kirk to remember that Vulcan was Spock’s first language.

McCoy opened his communicator quickly, abruptly remembering that Spock should be in sickbay, instead of lying here on the Vulcan sand, under the blasting heat of the midday sun.

‘ _Enterprise_ , send a nurse to the transporter room with a stretcher, and be prepared to beam up three. We’ve got Spock back.’ He paused for a moment. ‘He’s alive.’

He heard the transporter chief’s voice faintly, uttering a string of words he couldn’t quite make out, and he assumed the man was telling the rest of the ship through an intercom.

‘Lieutenant Kyle?’ he prompted.

‘Yes, sir. We’ll be ready.’

‘Great.’ The doctor snapped the device shut, and turned back to Spock. He looked up into Kirk’s face. ‘He’s suffering the effects of prolonged stress and total exhaustion,’ he said gravely. ‘Starvation, dehydration and terrible nervous strain. He’s already almost delirious. He’s close to a nervous breakdown.’

‘I am thirsty,’ Spock agreed weakly. ‘So thirsty.’ Then everything faded out as McCoy injected a sedative.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Spock drifted up through levels of consciousness, hindered and confused by sedatives that kept him from thinking any coherent thoughts. He could feel a hand holding his, stroking it gently and soothingly, letting his mind sense calm and caring thoughts. Noises swum closer, rushed away again, then came back, and began to clear and make sense. There were two voices that were familiar to him. Friends. These were people he could trust – who wouldn’t rake through his mind until it drove him insane.

Dr McCoy was saying, ‘Sleeping like a baby.’

Then Kirk, laughing, ‘I told you he wasn’t dead.’ Then more seriously, ‘If I hadn’t been waiting he would’ve died in that sun-blasted desert.’

‘Jim?’ Spock asked.

The hand promptly dropped his arm, and footsteps clattered away from the bed. Spock opened his eyes on a blurred room, and found he was in a sickbay bed. He realised the voices were coming from McCoy’s office, too far away to hear his faint call. He began to calculate how long it would take for sound to travel that distance, and how much volume it would lose on the way, then he tried hard to bring his mind back on track. The sedatives were confusing him, blending reality and imagination until he was not sure which was which.

The tapping feet returned. A blue shape came near to him and bent over him. Something hissed into his arm, and things cleared a little more. Then hands loomed close to his face, to straighten and tuck the blanket in again. The blue shape spoke, close by his ear.

‘Mr Spock. It’s Nurse Chapel. Do you hear me?’

He jerked away from the voice, then calmed himself, trying to force the reality of the situation into his mind. He blinked to clear his vision, slowly focusing on her face. He had suffered too many hallucinations by the end of his time with Suaniak to totally trust his own sight.

‘You – are real?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘Yes, I’m very real,’ she said steadily. ‘I’m standing right by you.’

She touched his hand lightly, trying to reassure him of her reality. Spock’s hand snapped closed over her wrist as confusion rose again. The last thing he remembered was being in that huge stone room, out of his mind with exhaustion. He could see the tall, decorated walls, the row of ten coffins, suddenly just as real as the face of the nurse.

‘You came to find me?’ Spock shook his head. ‘Jim shouldn’t have let you come. It’s too dangerous. Suaniak!’ he called out. ‘Let her go. You don’t need her to fulfil prophecy. She wasn’t in it. It only said men.’

‘No. Suaniak isn’t here,’ Chapel told him firmly. ‘You’re on _Enterprise_ , in the sickbay. The tranquilliser’s confusing you. Do you understand me?’ Her voice was anxious.

Spock blinked, realising that his eyes had been closed all the time he had thought he could see the tomb before him. He took in a breath of cold air, focussing on sickbay again.

‘Sickbay,’ he murmured. ‘Of course. How long for?’

‘Just two days. You’ve been quite delirious, Mr Spock. You were speaking a little, but I don’t think you ever registered us being there.’

‘I – don’t believe I could have been awake,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I was in the Vulcan desert. I believe I remember being in the desert. Then here… I’m on the _Enterprise_ ,’ he said with a forced certainty. ‘That _is_ where I am, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, you’re on the _Enterprise_. Don’t be surprised if you don’t remember much about inbetween. You were very disoriented.’

‘Two days?’ he echoed. ‘Is that how long I’ve been unconscious?’

‘Yes. Would you like me to fetch the captain, Mr Spock?’

‘I want to clear my mind... Help me sit up.’

He struggled to push his body up against the pillows, but his arm was held to the side of the bed by a grey structure over it, with a drip feeding something into his veins, and his body was held down by black straps.

‘No. You’re not well enough,’ she said in a gentle but firm tone. ‘Lie still, Mr Spock.’

‘Why am I restrained?’ Spock asked apprehensively. He felt sane enough to know that he had been close to _in_ sane, and that thought sent a chill through him.

‘You were very restless and the doctor was afraid you’d fall out of bed. I can take them off now you’re awake,’ she reassured him, unclipping the bands.

‘I was forced to meld with Suaniak. To open my mind to him – for a week,’ he suddenly remembered.

Words and ideas and memories seemed to be crowding in on him, as if his recollection of the past week had been shattered like glass, and now it was raining down around him in all of its mixed up, broken confusion.

‘He touched every thought, he touched every moment of my life. He would have killed me...’

Chapel sat down by the bed, her blue eyes filled with sympathy.

‘No wonder your nerves were shattered,’ she said softly.

She could see the nervous trembling begin again that had beset him repeatedly through the last two days, and she touched his hand tentatively, trying to soothe some of the tension away.

‘The child. Where is the child?’ he asked suddenly.

‘T’Si? I’ve been taking care of her. She’s fine, sir.’

‘May I see her? Please?’

‘Well...’ She was about to shake her head, but then she smiled. ‘I don’t see why not. Wait a moment.’ Chapel tried to pull away, but Spock’s fingers were unconsciously locked around her wrist, and tightening. ‘Let go now, Mr Spock,’ she pleaded. ‘You’re hurting me. Let go.’

‘No, wait!’ he protested, suddenly shaking all over, a haunted look on his face.

‘What is it?’ she asked softly, sitting back down beside him. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I – ’ He hesitated, suddenly looking ashamed. ‘I – don’t believe it is beyond Suaniak’s power to reach out into space and retrieve me,’ he said quietly.

‘You’re afraid he’s going to take you back?’ she asked softly, and he nodded. She hesitated, unsure of how to reassure him, since he was probably right about Suaniak’s power. ‘He – chose to let you go, though, didn’t he?’

Spock nodded slowly, his grip relaxing slowly on her arm.

‘Then – why would he change his mind?’ she asked, hoping Spock would not have a logical answer for that.

‘I – do not believe he would,’ Spock said slowly, letting his hand open.

‘I’ll only be gone a second. I’ll tell the doctor you’re awake, and I’ll get T’Si. She’s just in the next room.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I apologise. One moment I feel clear, then - ’

‘I know.’

She gave him a reassuring smile, and went through to McCoy’s office. The captain and the doctor were sitting around the desk, drinking coffee as they discussed the Vulcan’s condition.

‘Doctor, Mr Spock’s awake,’ she said quietly. ‘He’s making more sense now, but he’s still nervous and confused. He’s a little muddled, and he was afraid when I left him to see you. He was afraid Suaniak would take him back.’

‘The mind’s the worst thing you can attack in a Vulcan,’ McCoy muttered. ‘It’s so complex and important. Once you get through their protective barrier it’s so vulnerable. And Suaniak obviously got through the barrier.’

‘Can I see him, Bones?’ Kirk asked quickly, beginning to get up from the chair.

‘Go on,’ the doctor nodded. ‘But be quiet and gentle. Don’t push him.’

‘Of course I won’t.’

‘He’s very nervous of any loud or sudden noise, even in sleep, so try to keep it down.’

‘He was asking for T’Si,’ the nurse said. ‘Should I let him hold her?’

‘I want to keep him happy, and I’m sure T’Si’ll be pleased to see him. But keep an eye on him, won’t you?’

‘Of course, Doctor,’ Chapel nodded. She went to fetch the baby from her cot, and took her into the ward. ‘Mr Spock,’ she said gently. ‘Here she is. Here’s T’Si.’

‘Thank you. I – was concerned.’ Spock reached out an arm for the baby, taking her carefully and resting her on his chest. ‘T’Si,’ he murmured as one hand clenched on his clothes, and the other grasped at his face. ‘I am sorry I was away for so long. I was – I can’t really think where I was, but I couldn’t get to you. I am here for you now.’

‘Spock,’ Kirk said gently, concerned at the depth of the Vulcan’s apparent attachment to the child. ‘You know you’re going to have to give her up.’

Spock stirred, seeming to realise that the captain was there for the first time. The sight of him seemed to bring him closer to lucidity.

‘I am prepared for that, Jim,’ he said. ‘There’s a couple that I know of, a little younger than I am. They are responsible people. They cannot have children of their own, and have decided it is logical to adopt, but a child has not yet been found. I’m sure they will take T’Si.’

‘And you’ll be able to visit her,’ Kirk grinned. ‘Bones was right, Spock. You are a softy.’

Spock raised an eyebrow, looking insulted. ‘I have a quite logical concern for her welfare and her upbringing.’

‘She’s a little baby, and you love her.’

‘I give her the attention a young child needs. She should have a mother and father, but for now I must be that substitute ... I should not have left her for a week.’

Spock looked up as someone came through from the office, then recognised McCoy.

‘How do you feel, Spock?’ the doctor asked gently.

‘Strange,’ he murmured. ‘I feel - sometimes my mind feels logical, but - I keep losing grip on my thoughts. On reality. I am slipping…’

Kirk sat down by the Vulcan’s bed, and put a hand to Spock’s shoulder.

‘We thought you’d died. We were sure that Suaniak had killed you.’

‘I’m not dead, though.’

‘You made a good enough job of burning yourself out,’ McCoy told him sternly. ‘All that energy your brain was using, and no food to make up for it - not even a drink of water. Anyone else would have died. I should get paid bonuses for taking care of you,’ he said, grinning at the Vulcan good-naturedly now.

‘Spock, you’ll have to tell me what happened after we left you in there,’ Kirk urged him. ‘How did you persuade him to let you go?’

Spock shook his head. Kirk could see the inner battle he was struggling with to keep himself composed.

‘I cannot think,’ he said, his voice shaking. ‘Too many images, his fingers in my mind… Please, Captain. Not yet… Can’t talk…’

He pressed his hand over his ear, turning his head onto the pillow.

‘Mr Spock.’ Chapel took his trembling hand and gently pulled it away from his head. ‘No one’s trying to make you talk.’

Kirk stepped backwards, away from the bed, a shocked look on his face. McCoy went after him quickly.

‘Bones, I’ve never seen Spock like this before,’ the captain said slowly. He shook his head, bewildered, turning towards the door. ‘Maybe I should go. He’s obviously not ready…’

McCoy grabbed hold of his arm quickly and firmly.

‘You stay right here. He needs you, Jim.’

‘You saw how I just upset him,’ Kirk protested. ‘I don’t know if I can take seeing him like this. It’s – wrong for a Vulcan to be like this.’

‘Jim, didn’t you mean all those things you said down on Vulcan?’ McCoy asked him pointedly. ‘I know it’s hard seeing someone like Spock in a hospital bed, in the state he’s in, but you can’t desert your friends because you don’t like to see them ill.’

‘What did I say to make him so upset?’

‘He’s still too disturbed to talk about it,’ the doctor said tiredly. ‘I know he looks almost okay. He’s trying hard - but he needs more time. He spent a week with that – that Halloween ghoul raping his mind, never knowing if he’d be killed or not – never knowing how long he had. His nerves are shot to pieces. He will get better – we just have to give him time.’

He turned Kirk around and propelled him firmly back to the bed. Spock was lying with his eyes closed now, his face calm again, obviously making an effort to breathe deeply and slowly.

‘I’m sorry, Spock,’ Kirk said gently.

Spock opened his eyes for a moment, and nodded. ‘I know.’ He slipped the quiet baby to lie safely down between his arm and his body, and closed his eyes again. ‘I’m tired, Jim,’ he sighed, as he slipped into a deep sleep again.

‘I’ll bet you are,’ Kirk grinned. ‘But at least you’re not dead.’

******

‘May I enter?’

McCoy’s head jerked up from his work at the quiet, almost timid question.

‘T’Syan!’ he said with obvious surprise. He saw the Vulcan start a little at his outburst. ‘Come to gloat?’ he asked sourly.

The woman stepped silently and gracefully through the door into McCoy’s office, holding herself very upright, but still looking almost relaxed for a Vulcan. She was the picture of elegance in a long, simple black dress, and the doctor wondered what she might look like if she just smiled a little.

‘To gloat would be illogical, Doctor,’ she said quietly. ‘I have come to see my cousin, Spock. What should I gloat over?’

McCoy was surprised again by the softness of her tone. He wondered if maybe the family ties became stronger when Spock was ill.

‘I thought you might think Spock’s breakdown was something weak and feeble. Just like a human,’ he muttered. He still had not forgiven the woman for giving him and Spock up to Seyak in the Tyok caves.

The woman raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look offended.

‘I am under the impression that Spock conducted himself with remarkable discipline while he was trapped within Pnauh’Kmaghe,’ she said, the cold lines of her face melting a little. ‘I discovered a private means of contacting Suaniak. He has informed me that my cousin kept control of himself well. The assault on the mind of a Vulcan is a serious thing, and he reacted better than most would.’

‘It seems to me that Spock has try to be more Vulcan than other Vulcans,’ McCoy told her seriously. ‘He encounters a lot of prejudice.’

‘He did encounter much bigotry in his earlier life,’ T’Syan added. ‘Which is why, I am led to believe, he took up a position in Starfleet. It is unfortunate that he should become a victim of such a distasteful feeling from others.’

‘Unfortunate!’ McCoy exclaimed. ‘T’Syan, don’t you know you are one of the biggest bigots he encounters? Especially since you’re part of the same family. It hurts him the way you put him down all the time.’

‘Put him down? I do not understand.’

‘You honestly didn’t know when you were doing it, did you? Always making remarks about him being half human, and how it must weaken him.’

‘If I am prejudiced, I do not mean to be,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I was brought up in a small, strict village where all must be within the norm. Vulcans must possess dark hair and dark eyes, they must be always logical, they must be pure Vulcan.’

‘May I speak frankly?’ McCoy asked slightly nervously.

‘Truth should be kept from no one.’

‘When you speak to him, you’re actually contemptuous. As if you think he’s beneath you in every respect.’

‘I do not plan to be cruel, but as Spock dislikes Tyok, I - I do not dislike humans, but I have found their nature unpleasant. Violent and unpredictable. Difficult to understand. When I first saw a human I was very young, but I wondered how all nature could create an intelligent being with such an irrational mind. I hope you will not take that as a personal insult, Doctor? You are irrational, but you are one of those who actually respect life.’

‘I’ve seen too many people die to not respect it. But all humans aren’t warmongers, T’Syan.’

‘I am aware of that. May I see my cousin now?’

‘Well - he’s asleep right now.’

‘I could return at a later date.’

‘No,’ he smiled. ‘You may as well go through to him, since you came all the way up here to see him. He’ll probably be asleep for quite a long time anyway. He’s in the ward. Keep your voice low if you speak, and don’t make any sharp noises.’

The woman turned and walked smoothly through the door, sniffing a little at the antiseptic smell. McCoy followed her to Spock’s bed.

‘If he does wake up, don’t press him about his capture.’

‘I certainly will not. I know how damaging that could be to him.’

She sat down in a chair by Spock’s bed, and stared at him. First she looked him up and down carefully, studying him scientifically, as if she were examining a specimen in a laboratory. Then McCoy wondered if he saw some sympathy, or affection creeping into her face. He remembered that even through her coldness, T’Syan had defended Spock from the red Vulcan, Sha’Vir Seyak, condemning his brutal treatment.

He realised that T’Syan was speaking to him.

‘What d’you say?’

‘He appears drained.’ She glanced at the drip. ‘You are providing him with the correct amount of nutrition in that solution?’

‘I’m a doctor, aren’t I?’ he growled.

‘So I am informed. He has lost weight, though. That he cannot afford to do. Spock has never been anything more than lean.’

‘He’s getting the best treatment possible,’ McCoy said guardedly, wondering if now that Spock was ill T’Syan would need someone else to attack.

She shook her head. ‘I do not doubt it. I see that you care for my cousin. I was not criticising. It is merely that he is Vulcan, and you are not.’

‘I know most of what I need to know, but we have a doctor up here who interned on a Vulcan ward. If I need to I always check with him before taking any action.’

‘Spock has not been granted a large amount of respite since first being taken into custody by the Tyok people. He has been put through torture and worse.’

‘He’s had it tough. He seems to have a natural ability for getting himself hurt.’ McCoy grinned. ‘He’s the one that makes sure I earn my pay. I can’t count the number of times he’s come in here on a stretcher. Trouble is, the only way I can get him to stay is unconscious. If he’s fit enough to open his eyes and talk, he thinks he’s fit enough for duty.’

‘Naturally. Spock?’ T’Syan turned back to the Vulcan, who was stirring in his sleep. ‘Spock?’

‘T’Syan?’ the Vulcan murmured, his voice slurred with sleepiness. He didn’t open his eyes. ‘Q’wa tu na dich an’ul’ghu? Ty s-urua gna si?’

‘Vulcan?’ McCoy asked the woman.

‘Barely,’ she responded. ‘He speaks Vulcan, but his words are indistinct and muddled. It is difficult to glean a meaning. I think he was asking where he is.’

‘He’s sedated heavily. He will be very confused.’

‘I dislike the drugs you administer to him, but I acknowledge they are helping him.’ T’Syan turned back to Spock. ‘ _Enterprise_ tu na dichja. Tu umva ni s’tui.’

‘Mmm.’

Spock shook his head, appearing distressed, but T’Syan comforted him with the care and concern of a mother soothing a child. McCoy became aware that his mouth was gaping open, and he snapped it shut quickly.

‘He is highly disturbed. That is obvious,’ she told the doctor. ‘I could help him a little through mind meld, but only a very little. It may help him rest more easily.’

‘If you can,’ McCoy nodded. ‘Getting him to rest is the hardest thing. Even with all those tranquillisers his sleep’s uneasy. He’s always moving or muttering to himself.’

‘The decision to touch another’s mind is a difficult one. He cannot give me reliable permission. Should he learn that I violated his mind, after what he has just experienced…’

‘I doubt he’d mind if you could help him,’ McCoy shrugged.

‘McCoy, you come from a society - a race of people, where mind contact is linked with magic and superstition. You can sleep with no fear of another entering your thoughts. On Vulcan, everyone has the power, and the only thing to prevent the concern of another taking your thoughts, is trust. If you owned a house with no locks on the doors, in a place where crime was a potential, but unheard of, you would feel safe. But if a person came into your house and took an object, no matter how small and insignificant, you would begin to feel uneasy. You would wonder if that person you previously trusted would come back and take something larger. Privacy is sacred on Vulcan, Doctor, and privacy of mind is fundamental.’

‘I can understand that,’ McCoy said, after a moment of deliberation. ‘But this is a little different. This is for medical purposes.’

She nodded. ‘I can form a meld in which I do not take his thoughts into my mind. Where I simply touch his consciousness, and soothe it. There is no exchange of information.’

‘So you wouldn’t be reading anything private?’

‘That is the essence of what I am saying. It would make his recovery accelerate, and ease his peace of mind.’

‘Then by all means do it,’ McCoy urged her hastily. ‘He needs all the help he can get.’

‘Is it so serious?’

‘He is in a bad state. His nerves are torn to ribbons.’

T’Syan nodded, then rubbed and flexed her long fingers as the doctor had seen Spock do before a mind meld. Then she reached out to touch his forehead lightly. For a moment Spock seemed to be trying to struggle away, then he turned his face back towards the woman, and his eyes opened, not seeing, but glazed as she reached him. They both went still, then Spock began to relax in his bed, and a faint smile came to his lips. It was mirrored in T’Syan’s mouth, warming her whole appearance, and McCoy noted a sudden similarity between the two cousins. The woman quickly checked her smile, and it was if the sun had gone back behind a cloud. Then T’Syan’s face went chalky white. McCoy became worried as it faded again, and took on hues of grey.

‘T’Syan?’ he asked, then Spock’s mouth opened like a robot.

‘Take her away,’ he whispered.

The doctor quickly grabbed the woman’s wrist and tore the stiff hand from Spock’s face. ‘T’Syan!’ he snapped, shaking her a little. ‘Come out of it. Now!’ he thundered.

The woman shook her head and her eyes focused. Spock opened his eyes for a moment, and whispered, ‘Thank you.’ Then his face relaxed, and he slipped back to sleep.

‘I - apologise, Doctor,’ T’Syan said faintly. ‘It was merely my second attempt at contacting a mind other than pure Vulcan. His mind is - ’ She took a deep breath, and began again. ‘His mind is extremely troubled, and it was painful to me. I helped a little, and took the sharpness from some of the memories. He’ll sleep easier now. He will not remember this. You will not tell him.’

McCoy bit back an angry retort at what sounded so much like an order.

‘No. I won’t tell him,’ he promised.

T’Syan stood up shakily, and McCoy considered taking her arm to steady her, but she moved away to the end of the room before he could. He saw that she was standing over the cradle where T’Si slept peacefully.

‘She’s missing him a little,’ the doctor said over her shoulder.

‘Indeed?’ The woman picked the baby carefully out of the cot, and went back to sit by Spock, holding the child gently in her arms. ‘I lost my offspring to the attack on my village.’

‘I’m – sorry.’ McCoy wasn’t quite sure what to say to a Vulcan about death.

‘Vulcans do mourn,’ she said, as if she read his mind. ‘We know loss, but when one stifles one’s emotions it is difficult to – you may say, cope – with the loss, when it is such a large one. I had two young daughters, a husband.’ She straightened up again. ‘It does not do to dwell on the past. I will chose a new consort, and bear more children. There is still time.’ She passed the baby to McCoy, and carried the high cradle over to Spock’s bed. ‘They will both be happier together. She can see Spock, and Spock will know she is there.’ She put the baby back in the cot, and carefully untucked Spock’s hand from the blanket, so T’Si could reach for his finger. ‘I must leave now,’ she said abruptly, and she went before McCoy could give any word of farewell. He bent to cover Spock’s arm again, then looked back at the empty doorway.

‘Vulcans,’ he muttered. ‘All that caring under all that logic. I’ll never understand how their minds work...’

 


	17. Chapter 17

Kirk stood with one foot on the steps to the transporter, waiting for McCoy to put his hypo away. He rubbed at his arm a little before pulling his sleeve down again, where the doctor had just injected a small locator chip. Much as he relied on technology every day, he still felt uneasy after all that had passed at putting his trust in a chip the size of a grain of rice to keep him and the doctor safe when they beamed down to the Tyok caves. The chip could tell the ship where to find them – it even transmitted body readings to allow the  _Enterprise_ to know if they had suffered injury – but it could not say whether or not he and the doctor were in imminent danger of sudden death.

‘Sure you’ve got that transponder in properly?’ he asked again.

‘D’you think I want to be taken prisoner by those people again?’ McCoy asked him, then he said, ‘Yes. It’s in, Jim. Ready?’

‘Guess so.’ Kirk got up onto a transporter panel, and McCoy followed. ‘Energise, Scotty. Oh, and - ’

‘If you don’t check in in an hour, locate you and beam you up,’ Scott nodded. ‘Aye, sir. Energising.’

He slid the buttons up, and the pair turned into gold sparkles, then disappeared, leaving the transporter pad empty. The men materialised dead centre in the cave-office belonging to Sha’Vir Seyak, on the rug that Kirk had been forced to kneel on as Spock was tortured in another room. Seyak seemed to be sitting peacefully at his desk, doing some kind of written business, but he jumped up in momentary fright as the men appeared.

‘Kirk!’ he exclaimed, then nodded, composing himself quickly. ‘Captain, Dr McCoy. Good morning, I believe is the greeting you use.’

‘Yes,’ Kirk smiled. ‘Except that I think it’s evening down here. I’m sorry for busting in like this, but we had no way of contacting you to arrange it.’

Seyak sat down again behind his desk with a degree of control that would have befitted one of Spock’s race, and looked up at them.

‘I have heard that your First Officer Spock is trapped inside Pnauh’Kmaghe, condemned to death. I will offer my condolences.’

‘Fat lot you care,’ McCoy muttered as he looked around at the tapestries in the room, forgetting that the Vulcan’s hearing was far more acute than any human’s was.

‘I will overlook that remark,’ Seyak said graciously, ‘considering the treatment we subjected you to due to our small misunderstanding.’

‘Thank you,’ Kirk said quickly, glancing at McCoy. ‘And I’m pleased to say that Mr Spock isn’t dead. He was freed, and is back on the ship.’

The Vulcan smiled. McCoy could help feeling that the smile looked wrong on a Vulcan’s face – even a Tyok Vulcan’s.

‘Uninjured?’ the man asked.

‘He was suffering from lack of food and sleep, and the results of severe stress, but he’s recovering in sickbay as we speak.’

‘And the young child you rescued from Ly’Gotja?’

‘She’ll be adopted by a good family. We came to tell you that no more villages, or Tyok dwellings, will be at any risk from attack. The ship that was attacking Vulcan was destroyed in combat, along with its crew. There’s no sign that their compatriots will consider taking on the Federation again.’

‘I heard that it was Pnauh’Kmaghe that they took on,’ Seyak laughed.

‘Yes. Maybe it was,’ Kirk said reluctantly. ‘My chief engineer tells me that Pnauh’Kmaghe somehow repaired my ship and actually brought some of my people back to life, after they were attacked by the Pzyioman ship.’

‘My ancestors were fine, intelligent people, Captain Kirk,’ Seyak said proudly.

‘Yes.’ Kirk fidgeted, then looked down at his feet. No matter how amicable Seyak was being, he felt distinctly uneasy about standing in his office. ‘I’m sorry to cut it short, Seyak, but I have a lot of work to do on the _Enterprise_ – after the battle, there’s still some damage to be repaired. We only came to tell you it’s all cleared up.’

‘Except for my hundreds of dead tribesmen,’ Seyak said bitterly. ‘But I cannot put you to blame for that, Kirk. I thank you for returning here to tell me.’

‘Well, you had a right to know.’ Kirk opened his communicator quickly. ‘Scotty, stand by to beam up.’

‘Aye, sir,’ came the prompt response. ‘Standing by.’

‘You will, of course, convey my well-wishes to Commander Spock?’ Seyak asked, getting up and coming forward to them.

‘Of course.’

He backed away a step as he saw that Seyak was coming forward with a long, sharp looking knife in his hand, wondering if the man had some kind of revenge to carry out.

‘You will present him with this,’ Seyak said, slipping the sharp blade back into an ornately designed leather sheath. ‘It is the knife of a Tyok hunter. This blade has a long history behind it.’

‘Thank you,’ Kirk smiled diplomatically, taking the knife. ‘I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. Scotty, energise,’ he said hastily into his communicator.

He felt the familiar tingling sensation beginning in his stomach, and the small office faded from his view. After a few moments they were back on the  _Enterprise_ , and he allowed himself to let loose a sigh of relief.

‘He’s not really that bad,’ McCoy said unexpectedly. ‘Just a very illogical man.’

‘I would’ve thought you’d be more nervous of him than I am, after what they did to you, Bones,’ Kirk said in surprise, as they went through the door.

‘To tell you the truth, I think such an illogical Vulcan makes a nice change,’ McCoy grinned.

Kirk laughed, then his face turned grave. ‘Bones - ’

‘Yes, Jim? What’s on your mind?’

‘Is Spock recovering as we speak, or will he always be like – like – ?’

‘Like nervous of all noise, hysterical and unpredictable? Spock’s pretty tough, Jim. I can’t do much for him in sickbay, except get him strong again and take care of him. I’m only giving him sedatives to keep him calm - otherwise he’d never sleep. I can’t give him anything to make his mind better. He’s strong enough to put that right himself, and he’s fighting for that.’

‘Bones, don’t take offence at this, but do you really know enough about this kind of thing? You’re a surgeon, not a psychiatrist – especially not a Vulcan psychiatrist.’

‘I thought of that too, Jim,’ McCoy nodded. ‘I’ve had one of the best Vulcan headshrinkers up here to see him. He tells me Spock’ll probably stay asleep until he’s sorted himself out, then he’ll pull himself out of it. He should be recovered significantly as soon as that happens. It may take a while for him to really put it behind him, but he’ll be all right, Jim, really.’

‘All right, Bones,’ Kirk smiled. ‘I just needed my mind put at ease.’

‘I’ve got a better way than that,’ McCoy grinned. ‘Care to try it?’

Kirk chuckled approvingly. ‘Your quarters? I’ll bring a bottle of Rigilian whisky I’ve been saving.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Made illicitly by the farmers in the hill country. I better warn you, it’s got quite a bite, Bones.’

‘We can drink to Spock’s health.’

‘I’ll be along after my shift, Bones.’

McCoy grinned, waved a hand in acknowledgement, and went happily back to the sickbay.

******

The next time Spock woke everything seemed clearer, and his eyes focused without so much effort. The drip that kept him from sitting up was still there, but he knew he probably could sit without finding a maelstrom in his head. He lifted a hand and stared at it, and it wasn’t shaking so much. He could feel the trembling in his mind, but it was dulled, and controllable. It didn’t make him want to scream and claw at his head. He closed his eyes for a few moments, to gather the energy to call out for someone, then found himself waking again, not knowing how much later. He reached out and pressed a button by his bed, and someone came running in.

‘Spock. You okay?’ McCoy asked anxiously.

‘How long?’ he asked sleepily.

‘You’ve been asleep for about a week. You woke a few times.’

‘Once,’ Spock said with certainty.

‘Once properly awake, maybe. You’ve half woken up when people came in to visit you. T’Syan came in, and your parents transported up for a while. Do you need anything?’

Spock glanced at the drip. ‘I would like to sit up, to eat solid food, to have a drink – and to talk.’

‘Not all at once,’ McCoy laughed. ‘But, okay. Now you’re conscious we can do away with that drip.’

He disengaged the drip, and went over to a food dispenser.

‘What d’you like?’

‘I am not overly concerned,’ Spock said. ‘Simply something hot.’

McCoy nodded, making a quick selection on the replicator. He waited for the food to materialise, then came back with the tray.

‘I got you something good and Vulcan. Tuck into that. What d’you want to talk about?’

‘Are we still orbiting Vulcan? Do I still have T’Si?’

‘Yes, you have T’Si. Nobody’s going to send her away without your consent, and without you being well enough to think about it. I’ve been gradually reducing the sedatives, so you should be fit to think properly soon. I know they make your mind feel like cotton wool, but you needed them at first. And yes, we’re still orbiting Vulcan. There’re teams of people down there investigating Pnauh’Kmaghe. No one can get in, but they’re having a field day with the outside, and thinking about the inside. They’ve all seen the pictures you sent back. Do you – mind me talking about that?’ he asked cautiously.

‘No.’ Spock took another mouthful of solid food, trying not to seem too eager to eat, and trying not to let his heavy eyelids shut again. ‘I do not want to talk much about what happened after Jim and Chekov left me, but the time before that I don’t mind. Good morning, Captain,’ he said, as Kirk came in.

‘Afternoon,’ Kirk corrected.

‘Evening,’ McCoy set them both straight.

‘Doctor, this is a breakfast meal,’ Spock complained, looking down at the food on his plate.

‘That’s the disc that was there. And it _is_ your first meal of the day. You don’t look like you mind that much.’

‘I am hungry.’

‘I’ve never seen you hungry before,’ McCoy laughed.

Kirk laughed too as he sat down beside Spock’s bed. He looked curiously at Spock’s plate of food, and then exchanged a glance with McCoy. It certainly did not look like food that a human would enjoy.

‘I’ve been speaking to some of the ground team, Spock,’ he said. ‘They’re getting about as much information from that building as they did before we got in there.’

‘The building is impervious to any kind of scan,’ Spock remembered. ‘It would be difficult. No!’ He shook his head. ‘When Suaniak took our mechanical devices - he absorbed them, Jim. He absorbed the tricorder, and communicators. When I was to be released, he told me he would use them to transmit audio and visual signals. They only have to contact him on the right frequency. I apologise. I hardly remembered. I was too far gone by then, to take much in.’

‘It must’ve been awful,’ Kirk muttered, then stopped as McCoy kicked him.

Spock closed his eyes as if he was in pain. ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I – cannot make myself think of it yet.’

‘I wasn’t trying to make you,’ Kirk protested softly. ‘I just made a comment.’

Spock lay back into the soft pillows. He gulped slightly, his eyes almost crossing with concentration. He felt like a child again, struggling to enforce his mental disciplines and not quite succeeding. McCoy picked up a tranquilliser from the table and began to set the dosage.

‘No,’ the Vulcan protested. ‘I don’t need tranquillising, Doctor.’

‘I’m sorry, Spock,’ he said sincerely. ‘I know you hate these sedatives – I know how they make your mind feel – but you’re not strong enough to get upset.’

‘No.’ He grabbed for McCoy’s wrist and took the hypo. ‘You seem to want to sedate me at the smallest sign of instability. I am tired of having my mind turned into something comparable to a marshmallow. Give me a chance, Doctor.’

‘Bones, don’t give him any more of them,’ Kirk pleaded.

‘I hate keeping him doped like this,’ McCoy said guiltily. ‘But he’ll become terribly agitated without them.’

‘I don’t need it,’ Spock said firmly. ‘I am sound of mind, and you cannot administer drugs to me without my consent. I must cure my mind myself – your drugs will only prolong recovery.’

He dropped the hypo, and pressed his long fingers to his own face for a moment. His eyes blanked, then cleared again, looking brighter than before.

‘I’m all right now, Doctor. I won’t need any more drugs. I used ghi-ta’ni. It is a way of calming the mind.’

‘Are you sure that’s reliable?’ McCoy asked doubtfully.

‘One hundred percent. I am ready to return to duty now, Captain, if you will relieve my deputy.’

‘Jim!’ McCoy protested.

‘Not yet, Spock,’ Kirk agreed. ‘We do have to be sure you’re all right.’

‘Not to mention that you’re still ill,’ McCoy continued. ‘You need more time to rest. One week of food doesn’t make up for one week of starvation.’

‘You have been pumping more nutrition into my veins than I could ever need. If you had consulted Dr M’Benga – ’

‘I did, and we gave you the absolute correct amount of food. He told me that when a Vulcan goes without food that long he needs the excess, because of the amount of energy his complex brain uses. You were in a very nervous, disturbed state. Your brain was racing out of control like a starship at warp nine.’

Spock couldn’t think of a reply to that, so he lapsed into a reluctant silence. Then he turned to Kirk.

‘Jim, I do not want to talk about that week yet, but I’ll make a full report,’ he promised. ‘Later, when it’s clear in my mind.’

‘However long it takes, Spock. I won’t rush you.’

Spock flopped back as sleepiness built up again, and he battled hard to keep the light tranquillisers that were in his bloodstream from muddling him. He sat up again, feeling as if his mind had been numbed, and uttered a sentence of nonsense.

‘It’s okay,’ McCoy said quickly to Kirk. ‘It’s the tranquilliser that’s still in his system.’

Spock yawned, as the sedative finally caught up with him.

‘I’m fine, Captain,’ he muttered, as sleep washed over him again. ‘I am just fine.’

******

It was a week later before Spock felt able to leave the sick bay, and requested permission to beam down to the surface of Vulcan to conclude some unfinished business there. Kirk only heard of the Vulcan’s full intentions via the intercom, just as Spock beamed down, and he pelted to the transporter room and immediately ordered the operator to beam him down in the same place.

Spock was already walking purposefully across the red sand when Kirk materialised, and he turned in slightly nervous surprise at the noise of the transporter behind him.

‘Spock!’ Kirk jogged up to the Vulcan, and caught his arm. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘I am perfectly sure,’ Spock said calmly.

‘But – are you ready to speak to him?’

‘Yes, Jim,’ Spock nodded. ‘I must. He could have killed me, and yet he did not. He showed me mercy. He truly did not know how ill that week made me. He is already dead. He has forgotten hunger and fatigue.’

‘He could have seen how terribly exhausted you were.’

‘I may have simply seemed to him to be acting like an emotional Vulcan – as he knows Vulcans to be. Even if I was sobbing - he did not know how unusual that was to a modern Vulcan. He simply knew that I did not want to die. If my conversation became confused – insane maybe – he only knew that I was upset. If I was shaking, it was with terror. He does not know modern Vulcans. I remember little of the last few days in there – of being released, you finding me. I was detached from all reason. But I do know Suaniak still called me son. He did care as a father would.’

‘And it’s logical to go back and thank him?’ Kirk smiled.

‘It is not precisely logical,’ Spock said, deliberately looking in the opposite direction.

‘And if he’s changed his mind? He can beam things out - he’ll have the power to beam things in again.’

Spock shuddered, looking up at the dark walls, then turned back to face Kirk.

‘If he had wanted to do that, he could have reached out and taken me from the _Enterprise_ , with nothing more than a thought. I am a scientist, Captain. I cannot let personal fears interfere with that.’

‘I know, Spock. But at least let me come with you.’

‘No, Jim,’ Spock said firmly. ‘Stay here, please. Nothing will happen to me. I must do this alone.’

Kirk sighed. ‘Okay. But I’ll be waiting here for you.’

‘Thank you.’

As Spock walked slowly towards the great black shadow of Pnauh’Kmaghe the transporter hummed again, and Kirk spun nervously, to see a human form materialising.

‘Bones,’ he smiled, as the man appeared properly. ‘You gave me a fright. I thought it was Suaniak taking Spock again.’

‘Not half as big as the fright I got when I heard what Spock was doing. Has he gone?’

Kirk pointed at the blue-shirted figure moving away from them.

‘He’s only going to talk to Suaniak.’

‘That’s what worries me,’ McCoy said seriously. ‘If it stirs up all those memories again - ’

‘I think he can cope with it now. I couldn’t order him not to do it, and he’s only speaking through the tricorder. It’s not as if he going back inside the place.’

‘I know, but - ’ McCoy shook his head. ‘What’s the use? I guess it’s his decision. It’s just I’m the one who has to straighten his mind out afterwards.’

They watched as Spock reached the great tomb, and raised his tricorder to the wall. His figure looked like that of a child - as insignificant as a speck of dust against the huge black building.

******

The land was growing dark, and the air chilling as Spock turned and began to walk steadily back towards his captain. His face and body were half lit by the dying sun, that turned his top a strange shade of purple. Kirk walked slowly forward to meet him, motioning for Bones to stay where he was.

‘Have you finished?’ he asked.

Spock looked straight at him, and Kirk was glad to see eyes that truly belonged to his science officer again. But for a while his voice was human.

‘I’ve finished. I’ve closed the lid on that fear, Jim.’

Then a change came over him - not a visible one, but to Kirk it was as if the Vulcan had straightened up and pulled himself back into shape. He bent his head to efficiently adjust a few buttons on his tricorder, then looked up again.

‘I am ready to beam up, Captain. I have much to add to the history files of the _Enterprise_.’

 


End file.
